5 


IT    PAYS    TO    SMILE 

NINA   WILCOX    PUTNAM 


11NIT  OF  f.ATJF.  TJWIAKY.  I. OS   ANGKTJ* 


IT    PAYS    TO 
SMILE 

BY 

NINA  WILCOX   PUTNAM 

AUTHOR  OF  "BELIEVE  YOU  ME!"  "ADAM'S  GARDBW," 


'THE  IMPOSSIBLE  BOY,    ETC.    . 


NEW  ^Sir  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    IQ2O, 
BY  GEORGE   H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  192O,  BY  THE   CURTIS   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


TO 

GEORGE  HORACE  LORIMER 

THE  ALL-AMERICAN  EDITOR 


21321R9 


IT   PAYS   TO    SMILE 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


SINCE  the  very  beginnings  of  Boston  my  people, 
who  were,  as  every  school  child  knows,  an  integral 
part  of  the  original  colony,  had  the  commendable  habit 
of  recording  all  those  events  which  bore  in  a  manner 
either  psychological  or  physiological  upon  their  house- 
holds or  upon  the  affairs  of  state,  in  which  they  were 
ever  active.  In  truth  I  make  small  doubt  that  but 
for  the  Talbots  there  would  have  been  no  Boston, 
or  at  least  certainly  no  information  regarding  it  re- 
corded in  intelligible  English.  And  though  in  my 
girlhood  I  conceived  my  ancestors'  style  to  be  a  trifle 
jejune  and  was  myself  fond  of  lighter  and  more  friv- 
olous works  such  as  those  of  Emerson  and  Walter 
Pater,  a  weakness  to  which  I  confess  with  all  due 
humility,  I  nevertheless  realize  the  importance  of  the 
writings  of  my  family  and  the  desirability  of  main- 
taining our  tradition  of  making  an  accurate  record  of 
such  pertinent  events  as  come  under  my  immediate 
observation  in  order  that  future  generations  in  their 
search  after  truth  may  have  a  reliable  monument ' 
to  depend  upon.  And  this  resolve  has  been  greatly 
strengthened  by  perusing  the  ill-written,  outrageously 
sensational  and  ill-considered  newspaper  versions  of 
the  affair  which  has  so  recently  brought  our  historic 

9 


10  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

name  into  the  public  notice  under  such  distressingly 
vulgar  and  conspicuous  circumstances. 

Of  course  Talbot,  the  chauffeur,  has  enjoyed  it  all 
immensely,  thereby  to  my  mind  proving  once  and  for 
all  that  he  has  no  genuine  claim  upon  the  name,  and 
that  his  pretension  of  belonging  to  a  younger  Western 
branch  is,  as  I  have  consistently  maintained,  absolutely 
fallacious.  But  I  show  weakness  by  digression.  Per- 
mit me  to  recount  the  tale  from  its  true  beginning, 
which  was,  of  course,  my  unfortunate  answering  of 
that  advertisement  in  the  Transcript. 

When  the  wretched  thing  came  to  my  attention  Eu- 
phemia  and  I  were  seated  at  the  supper  table;  she 
at  the  head  and  I  at  the  side — a  custom  she  has  in- 
sisted upon  since  our  parents'  death,  her  position  be- 
ing that  due  to  the  elder  sister  and  the  rightful  head 
of  the  family;  and  the  table  has  continued  to  be  set 
thus,  though  at  the  time  of  my  rebellion  I  was  fifty 
and  she  sixty,  and  it  was  absurd  that  she  should  main- 
tain a  formality  instituted  when  she  was  twenty  and 
I  was  ten.  I  had  often  disputed  with  her  about  it, 
but  to  no  avail. 

"My  dear  Freedom,"  she  would  rebuke  me,  "I  am 
the  elder  and  I  know  what  is  best  for  youth.  So  long 
as  I  am  here  this  household  shall  be  conducted  prop- 
erly!" 

And  nothing  served  to  move  her  from  that  point 
of  view. 

Well,  upon  the  portentous  evening  when  my  re- 
bellion began  we  were  sitting  as  usual,  promptly  at 
five-thirty,  in  the  cheerful  if  shabby  dining  room  of 
our  vast  and  dilapidated  old  mansion  on  Chestnut 
Street,  with  the  sun  shining  brightly  upon  the  neatly 
darned  table  linen,  the  zinnias  from  the  garden  and 


11 


the  few  remaining  bits  of  family  silver.  It  can  hardly 
be  said  that  Old  Sol  spread  his  refulgent  glory  upon 
very  much  to  eat,  for  he  did  not,  there  being  nothing 
but  a  pot  of  tea,  four  very  thin  half  slices  of  toast 
and  the  evening  Transcript.  According  to  her  custom 
Euphemia  looked  at  this  first  herself. 

"I  perceive  that  the  Republican  Party  is  indignant 
with  the  Administration,"  she  informed  me.  "And 
that  a  mail  service  is  to  be  established  by  air  from 
New  York.  How  shocking!  The  postman  will  very 
likely  drop  things  from  the  aeroplane !  I  don't  approve 
of  the  Government  taking  such  risks  with  other  people's 
letters.  It  is  positively  unseemly.  Letters  should  be 
brought  to  one's  door  by  a  person  with  a  blue  coat  and 
a  whistle." 

"They  probably  will  be,"  I  ventured.  "The  radical 
changes  in  life  only  affect  the  big  things  at  first." 

Euphemia  gave  me  a  sharp  look. 

"Don't  think  too  much,  Freedom,"  she  admonished 
me.  "It  is  unfeminine  in  a  younger  person.  And 
take  care — your  jabot  almost  went  into  your  tea!" 

I  set  down  the  cup,  which  I  had  in  truth  been  hold- 
ing in  such  a  way  that  my  lace  cravat  was  endangered. 
I  am  occasionally  rather  given  to  daydreaming;  a 
reprehensibly  slack  mental  habit  of  which  I  have  been 
unable  wholly  to  break  myself,  and  I  was  grateful  for 
the  merited  reproof.  Well,  I  set  down  the  cup  and  put 
out  my  hand  for  the  newspaper,  which  Euphemia, 
having  glanced  at  the  headlines,  had  finished  reading. 
Again  she  rebuked  me,  this  time  with  a  gesture,  and 
rang  the  bell.  I  subsided  until  the  fourteen-year-old 
colored  girl  who  constituted  our  domestic  staff  made 
her  appearance,  enveloped  in  a  white  apron  which 
gave  her  a  curiously  grown-up  appearance  when  viewed 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


from  the  front,  as  it  had  been  intended  for  an  adult 
and  reached  the  floor,  but  which,  seen  from  the  rear, 
revealed  her  immaturity. 

"Galadia,  hand  this  paper  to  Miss  Freedom!"  said 
Euphemia  with  dignity.  And  when  the  child  had  com- 
plied :  "That  is  all  ;  you  may  go  !" 

And  Galadia  made  her  exit,  slamming  the  kitchen 
door  behind  which  her  voice  immediately  rose  in  song  : 

Kiss  yo'  Honey-Baby-Doll! 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  my  sister,  rising  in 
wrath.  "What  ever  will  become  of  that  child?" 

And  gathering  her  woolen  shawl  about  her  she 
swept  into  the  kitchen,  her  cap  strings  tremulous  with 
indignation,  and  I  was  left  to  a  swift  and  guilty  perusal 
of  the  newspaper.  I  use  the  adjective  "guilty"  be- 
cause I  knew  how  thoroughly  Euphemia  would  disap- 
prove of  the  section  to  which  I,  for  the  seventh  time 
in  as  many  days,  turned.  It  was  the  advertising  page 
that  I  selected,  and  my  eagerness  was  resultant  from 
a  desperate  resolution  which  I  had  secretly  made. 

I  was  going  to  work. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  my  ancient  and 
honorable  family  a  female  Talbot  was  seeking  re- 
munerative employment.  Terrible  as  I  knew  this  act 
to  be  I  was  unalterably  resolved  upon  it,  and  was  keep- 
ing my  secret  from  my  dear  sister  only  until  armed 
with  actual  employment,  for  I  was  but  too  well  aware 
of  what  her  attitude  would  be,  and  determined  to 
waste  no  time  in  disputing  a  theoretical  situation,  but 
once  strengthened  by  actually  being  engaged  in  some 
capacity  I  would  face  her  wrath.  Besides,  were  she 
to  learn  prematurely  of  my  plan,  she  was  quite  capable 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  13 

of  attempting  to  lock  me  in  my  chamber  as  a  preventive 
measure. 

But  though  so  long  recreant  in  my  decision  to  take 
what  after  mature  consideration  I  deemed  the  right 
and  proper  course,  it  was  not  for  nothing  that  my 
parents,  despairing  of  ever  being  blessed  with  a  son, 
had  bestowed  upon  me  the  family  name  of  Freedom. 
There  had  always  been  a  male  Freedom  Talbot,  and 
his  tradition  had  ever  justified  his  name;  and  at  length 
I  was  determined  to  live  up  to  it. 

My  desperate  decision  had,  of  course,  a  pecuniary 
basis.  We  were  poor;  there  is  no  denying  it.  Our 
parents  had  left  us  the  house  and  an  income  of  seven 
hundred  a  year,  which  for  two  maidens  who  would 
presumably  marry  was  not  insufficient  in  the  day  of 
our  inheritance.  But  no  mate  ever  having  chosen  either 
of  us,  or  been  chosen  by  either  of  us,  and  the  cost  of 
living  having  risen  so  inexplicably,  our  situation  had 
gradually  become  greatly  altered.  Euphemia  steadily 
opposed  the  idea  of  any  remunerative  work,  no  matter 
how  genteel,  and  so  far  I  had  unwillingly  submitted, 
the  more  readily  because  we  were  utterly  without  train- 
ing or  equipment.  But  when  in  a  single  week  the  tax 
on  the  house  was  increased  simultaneously  with  the 
price  of  butter,  my  resolve  took  shape,  and  my  perusal 
of  the  advertising  sheets  began. 

On  this  fateful  evening  the  "Wanted"  column  at  first 
appeared  to  be  more  than  usually  devoid  of  possibili- 
ties. There  were  the  usual  "Perfect  36 — 38"  for 
Jewish  concerns  that  apparently  manufactured  cloth- 
ing. Shopgirls  were  needed,  and  houseworkers,  but  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  either  of  these  occupations 
except  as  a  last  resort.  Typists  were  also  desired, 
and  bookkeepers;  but  I  feared  my  lack  of  practical 


education  would  count  against  me.  A  traveling  sales- 
lady was  wanted,  and  a  book  agent;  and  as  I  was 
pondering  the  possibilities  set  forth  by  these  my  eye 
fell  upon  the  fateful  notice  which  led  to  all  my  strange 
adventures.  It  was  printed  rather  larger  than  its  fel- 
lows, and  set  forth  an  extraordinary  request. 

WANTED :  An  indigent  old  lady  of  impeccable  social  stand- 
ing, to  act  as  chaperon  to  a  common  young  girl  who  is  mother- 
less. Must  be  dowdy,  incompetent,  financially  embarrassed, 
snobbish,  and  never  employed  before.  No  pretenders  will  be 
considered.  Excellent  salary  and  a  chance  to  see  the  world. 
Apply  Apartment ,  Plaza  Hotel,  between  five  and  seven  p.  M. 

Conceive,  if  you  can,  the  astonishment  with  which  I 
perused  this  advertisement.  Had  I  inserted  it  myself, 
stating  the  sort  of  position  for  which  I  was  best  fitted, 
I  could  in  all  candor  have  stated  my  case  and  situation 
no  better.  Indeed  I  was  obliged  to  reread  the  notice 
several  times  before  feeling  able  to  credit  my  own 
senses.  Then  I  tore  the  corner  containing  it  from  the 
paper,  hastily  concealed  it  in  my  reticule,  refolded  the 
remaining  sheets  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  conceal  the 
damage  done,  and  laid  it,  as  was  our  custom,  upon  the 
files  under  the  china  closet. 

Then  with  quickly  beating  heart  I  got  the  porcelain 
tub  and  suds,  spread  the  oilcloth  upon  the  side  table 
and  completed  my  daily  task  of  washing  and  putting 
away  the  tea  china  with  fingers  which  trembled  so 
that  they  were  scarcely  equal  to  the  task. 

Then,  when  Galadia,  who  refused  to  dwell  with  us 
continuously,  had  been  sent  home  to  her  parents,  and 
Euphemia  had  settled  herself  to  her  crochet  work  in  the 
drawing-room  I  stole  upstairs,  upon  the  pretext  of  a 
slight  headache,  and  in  the  privacy  of  my  chamber 
again  perused  that  amazing  scrap  of  paper. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  15 

Could  it  by  chance  be  the  expression  of  some  dull 
person's  humor?  Was  it  possibly  a  snare  of  some 
kind?  But  no,  the  last  seemed  improbable  inasmuch 
as  the  requirements  were  a  direct  negation  of  anything 
which  would  appear  desirable  to  the  kidnaper  or  any 
such  vicious  character.  Moreover,  the  address  given 
inspired  a  degree  of  confidence,  because,  though  I  was 
under  the  impression  that  all  expensive  and  fashionable 
hotels  must  be — well,  not  suitable  for  the  conservative 
female  element  of  our  dear  city  to  frequent,  still  there 
could  be  no  real  danger  incident  to  a  visit  to  them  by 
a  person  like  myself,  who  sought  no  evil.  Considering 
this  point  I  looked  at  my  dear  father's  watch,  which 
I  always  carried — Euphemia  very  properly  having  pre- 
empted mother's — end  discovered  that  the  hour  was 
but  six. 

Then  my  resolution  took  firm  hold  upon  me,  and 
without  more  ado  I  got  out  my  bonnet  and  pinned  it 
on  with  resolute  fingers,  found  my  best  silk  gloves, 
and  taking  my  dolman  and  reticule  crept  softly  down 
the  stairs,  excitement  high  within  my  breast. 

At  the  door  of  the  once-elegant,  now  shabby  recep- 
tion room  I  paused  to  peek  at  Euphemia's  unconscious 
back  which  was  just  visible,  very  stiff  and  correct,  in 
the  lonely  drawing-room  beyond.  Fortunately  she 
did  not  hear  me,  and  having  thus,  as  it  were,  silently 
saluted  her,  and  feeling  uncommonly  like  an  errant 
daughter  about  to  consummate  an  elopement,  I  shut  the 
front  door  behind  me  with  care  and  stepped  forth  into 
the  roseate  late  afternoon  sunlight  and  my  desperate 
adventure. 

I  find  it  difficult  indeed  to  express  the  mixture  of 
trepidation  and  elation  which  possessed  me  upon  this 
occasion.  The  very  streets,  familiar  since  childhood, 


16  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

took  on  a  strange  aspect,  and  the  walk  to  the  hotel 
was  magically  shortened  by  my  excitement,  though  on 
its  threshold  I  hesitated  and  might  have  turned  back 
at  the  last  moment  had  it  not  been  for  the  inquiring 
gaze  of  the  large  uniformed  colored  person  who  stood 
at  the  doorway.  Fearful  that  he  would  address  me 
if  I  delayed  longer  I  gathered  courage  anew  and  en- 
tered through  a  most  alarming  revolving  door. 

I  had  never  been  in  this  hotel  before,  and  neither  had 
any  of  the  ladies  of  my  acquaintance,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Annie  Tresdale,  whose  cousin  from  Chicago 
stayed  there  overnight  and  had  Annie  to  luncheon; 
and  she,  I  was  aware,  had  felt  the  most  severe  criticism 
of  the  place  owing  to  the  fact  that  a  female  had  smoked 
a  cigarette  in  the  dining  room.  I  afterward  ascertained 
that  it  was  Annie's  cousin  who  had  done  this,  and 
so,  of  course,  we  never  discussed  the  subject  further. 
But  I  will  confess  the  place  bore  no  aspect  of  vicious- 
ness  beyond  a  good  many  electric  fixtures,  and  the 
young  man  at  the  desk  was  exceedingly  polite  and 
helpful,  considering  the  number  of  persons  who  were 
simultaneously  trying  to  engage  his  attention. 

"Apartment  B?  Oh,  yes;  for  Mr.  Pegg!"  said  he 
in  reply  to  my  query.  "There  is  one  lady  up  there 
already!  Boy!  Show  madam  up  to  Mr.  Pegg!" 

And  at  this  a  youth  appareled  as  a  page  took  me  in 
charge  and  led  me  to  what  I  at  once  perceived  to  be 
an  elevator.  At  the  door  I  balked. 

"I  prefer  to  walk  if  there  are  stairs,"  said  I. 

The  page  looked  as  if  he  thought  I  had  gone  sud- 
denly mad. 

"It's  six  flights!"  he  said.  And  so  I,  realizing 
that  the  building  was  indeed  a  tall  one,  followed  him 
into  the  trap,  in  which  were  several  other  persons, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  17 

who  appeared  to  me  to  be  uncannily  nonchalant.  Main- 
taining as  dignified  an  exterior  as  I  could  I  concealed 
my  alarm  at  what  was  a  wholly  novel  experience  to 
me,  and  was  presently  disgorged,  quite  unharmed,  upon 
what  the  page  assured  me  was  the  seventh  story.  He 
then  preceded  me  down  an  interminable  blue-carpeted 
hallway  and  paused  before  a  door  upon  which  he 
tapped. 

After  a  moment  it  was  opened  by  a  manservant  of 
extremely  respectable  appearance. 

"Mr.  Pegg?"  I  inquired. 

"From  the  advertisement,  madam  ?"  said  the  servant. 

"Yes,"  I  replied  with  dignity. 

"Is  that  all?"  said  the  page. 

"That  is  all,  thank  you,  little  boy,"  I  replied,  at 
which  the  child  departed  with  an  air  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

And  then  the  manservant  ushered  me  into  a  magnifi- 
cent anteroom  done  in  gold  paneling  and  mauve  velvet 
upholstery,  most  beautiful  and  in  the  best  of  taste.  I 
subsequently  ascertained  that  I  was  in  the  royal  suite 
of  the  hotel,  and  that  it  occupied  the  entire  floor. 

"Will  you  be  seated,  please?"  said  the  servant,  hand- 
ing me  to  a  golden  armchair.  I  dropped  his  arm, 
which  I  had  taken  upon  entering,  as  is  the  custom 
in  my  circle  where  a  butler  is  still  maintained.  "Mr. 
Pegg  is  interviewing  another  applicant  in  the  drawing- 
room,  but  I  believe  he  will  shortly  be  at  liberty."  And 
with  that  he  left  me. 

I  took  a  tentative  perch  on  the  very  edge  of  my 
magnificent  seat,  clasping  my  reticule  firmly  and  feel- 
ing as  though  I  had  suddenly  discovered  myself  in  the 
midst  of  a  dream  which  refused  the  half -conscious 
mind  the  acknowledgment  of  unreality.  It  was  ex- 


18  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

traordinary,  really,  and  I  wondered  who  and  what  the 
unseen  applicant  might  be,  and  if  the  position  might 
not  already  be  filled.  I  almost  hoped  it  was,  so  over- 
powering was  the  room  in  which  I  sat,  and  yet  it 
was  patent  that  the  advertiser  must  truly  be  a  person 
of  means  and  that  the  emolument  would  be  consider- 
able— certainly  not  less  than  four  or  five  hundred  a 
year — and  I  trembled  at  the  thought  that  perhaps  for- 
tune had  already  dedicated  this  to  another. 

But  before  many  moments  had  passed  the  door  into 
the  adjoining  room  was  opened  and  two  persons  en- 
tered— a  man  and  a  woman — the  later  unquestionably 
my  predecessor. 

She  was  a  vulgar  overdressed  person  much  younger 
than  myself,  and  at  the  mome'nt  her  attractions  were 
not  enhanced  by  a  fit  of  anger.  Her  language  was 
wholly  unintelligible  to  me. 

"Of  course  I  thought  you  was  a  motion-picture 
bird !"  she  snapped,  "and  character  parts  is  my  middle 
name.  Me  a  governess?  My  Lord — not  for  a  gift!" 

"Don't  trouble  yourself;  nobody'll  try  and  force  it 
on  you,"  said  the  man.  "Good  day,  ma'am !" 

And  he  opened  the  outer  door  for  her  impudent 
departure.  Upon  closing  it  after  her  he  caught  sight 
of  me  and  stared.  I  confess  I  returned  the  favor 
quite  involuntarily,  for  Mr.  Pegg  was  certainly  the 
most  extraordinary  man  I  had  ever  seen.  He  was 
about  six  feet  four  inches  in  height,  and  so  heavy  that 
at  first  his  tallness  was  hardly  remarkable.  He  was 
perhaps  sixty  years  of  age,  though  magnificently  pre- 
served, and  his  ruddy  clean-shaven  face  had  a  jaw 
which  my  dear  father  would  have  described  as  "iron." 
His  expensive  clothing  was  worn  with  a  negligent  air, 
and  his  voice  was  like  the  roar  of  a  lion. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  19 

"Jumping — er — grasshoppers!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
eyes  riveted  upon  me.  "Are  you  made  up  for  the 
part?" 

At  once  I  rose  to  my  feet  in  proper  indignation. 

"I  never  paint!"  I  exclaimed  angrily.  "My  color  is 
natural,  though  perhaps  unusual  at  my  age.  If  it  is 
your  intention  to  get  gentlewomen  here  merely  to  insult 
them,  Mr.  Pegg,  I  have  no  further  occasion  for  re- 
maining!" 

To  my  surprise  Mr.  Pegg  merely  chuckled  at  this, 
and  then  assuming  a  more  composed  manner  held  open 
the  door  to  the  inner  room,  making  a  deep  and  cour- 
teous bow  as  he  did  so. 

"My  dear  madam — a  thousand  pardons!"  he  said. 
"You  seemed  too  real  to  be  anything  genuine.  Please 
walk  in." 

And  so,  wondering  if  perhaps  the  poor  man  was 
insane,  and  far  from  feeling  at  ease,  I  complied,  enter- 
ing an  enormous  drawing-room  and  accepting  the  seat 
on  the  far  side  of  an  incongruously  littered  table — filled 
with  papers,  notes,  and  so  on,  and  all  the  paraphernalia 
of  a  business  man's  desk.  Mr.  Pegg  took  the  armchair 
behind  it  and  settled  to  a  critical  inspection  of  me, 
though  he  did  not  look  at  me  continuously.  I  faced 
the  sunset,  but  as  my  face  was  clean,  and  as  at  my 
age  I  had  got  past  attempting  concealment  of  my 
crow's  feet,  I  was  quite  composed — outwardly.  Yet  I 
could  feel  that  his  glance  rested  upon  my  hat,  my 
hair,  my  silk  gloves,  my  walkrite  boots,  even — though 
they  were  discreetly  covered  by  my  dress.  And  all  at 
once  my  terror  of  him  diminished.  It  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  say  just  why,  but  very  possibly  it  was  the  tone 
of  his  voice  when  he  spoke  again,  for  though  his  diction 


20  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

was  shockingly  incorrect  there  was  a  certain  kindliness, 
a  gentleness  to  it  which  was  unmistakably  genuine. 

"You  ain't  a  Winthrop  by  any  chance,  are  you, 
madam  ?"  he  asked. 

"No  my  name  is  Talbot,"  said  I. 

And  then  as  he  appeared  a  trifle  disappointed  I 
elaborated,  for  his  ignorance  was  patent.  "My  ances- 
tors came  over  a  generation  before  Winthrop,"  I  said 
gently,  for,  of  course,  I  would  not  like  that  family  to 
hear  that  I  had  in  any  way  classified  them  as  nouveaux. 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Pegg,  brightening  again.  "That's 
fine!  That's  fine,  Madam  Talbot — &  real  aristocrat!" 

"I  am  Miss  Talbot,"  I  again  corrected  him. 

"Well,"  said  he  doubtfully,  "of  course,  that's  not 
quite  as  desirable  as  a  widow  would  be,  is  it  now  ?  To 
take  care  of  my  daughter,  I  mean.  Still,  in  some  ways 
an  old  maid  is  better.  More  particular,  you'd  be.  And 
what's  more,  you  are  born  blue-blooded,  not  just  mar- 
ried to  it !" 

"Mr.  Pegg,"  said  I,  "will  you  not  set  forth  the  exact 
nature  of  the  occupation  you  propose  for  me?'"' 

"That's  it!"  he  cried,  thumping  the  table.  "That's 
the  stuff  exactly. 

"I  beg  pardon  ?"  said  I. 

"Talk  like  that!"  he  shouted.  "And  learn  her  to 
talk  the  same — give  her  some  class !" 

"You  expect  me  to  teach  your  daughter  grammar?" 

"Teach  her  everything!"  said  the  giant.  "Polish 
her  up;  finish  her  off — but  not  by  instructin'  her. 
My  Lord,  no!  She'd  never  stand  for  it!  Just  stick 
round — be  with  her — let  a  little  Boston  rub  off  on  her, 
and  set  her  right  when  she  makes  a  break." 

"A  sort  of  governess?"  I  ventured. 

"Companion,    chaperon — you    get    me!"    said    her 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  21 

parent,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair  beaming  satisfac- 
tion. "Now  look-a-here,  Miss  Talbot,  I'll  put  the 
matter  straight  to  you.  I  am  a  rich  man,  but  I'm 
a  roughneck  and  I  know  it.  There  is  a  few  things  I 
ain't  been  able  to  buy  for  myself,  and  refinement  is 
one  of  them.  But  I  calculate  to  pry  off  a  little  for  my 
Peaches — no  culls  on  this  family  tree  if  a  little  prun- 
ing and  grafting  can  turn  it  into  a  perfect  Seedless 
Apperson.  Does  that  mean  anything  to  you?" 

I  reflected  a  moment,  and  though  the  man's  actual 
terminology  was  unintelligible  to  me  the  sense  of  his 
imagery  was  somehow  perfectly  clear. 

"You  speak  of  her  as  a  young  tree!"  said  I.  "I 
think  I  do  understand.  "  'Just  as  the  twig  is  bent  the 
tree's  inclined.' ' 

This  plainly  interested  him. 

"True!"  he  exclaimed.  "Just  that.  Well,  as  I 
was  saying,  I've  just  cleaned  up  the  biggest  deal  the 
California  fruit  growers  ever  heard  of — and  I  started 
out  as  a  picker  with  a  bunch  of  Hindus,  getting  four 
cents  a  lug  for  oranges!  To-day  I've  got — well,  it 
don't  matter  how  many  millions ;  and  a  daughter  that's 
never  been  let  off  the  home  ranch  until  three  weeks 
ago.  Her  mother  died  when  she  come.  Well — never 
mind  that  either!  And  now  I've  made  my  haul  and 
I've  got  a  little  time  to  give  her — and  to  living  gen- 
erally. I'm  a  practical  man,  Miss  Talbot.  When  I 
commence  grafting  a  new  orchard  of  Golden  Ameri- 
cans on  a  twenty-acre  stretch  of  old  wild  stock  I  cut, 
splice  and  bind  it  right,  and  I  don't  hurry  myself  until 
I  get  the  grafts  I  want  and  the  proper  season  and 
everything.  And  the  same  with  the  culture  of  my 
American  Beauty.  I've  left  her  grow  strong  and  wild 
for  twenty  years  now,  and  she's  about  ready  for 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


cultivation.  And  I  feel  you  are  the  right  one  for  the 
job.  You  are  hired  !" 

"But  my  dear  Mr.  Pegg!"  I  protested.  "You  really 
are  not  in  the  least  informed  as  to  my  qualifications." 

"You  don't  imagine  that  a  feller  that's  been  pick- 
ing men  for  thirty  years  —  Dagos,  Greasers,  Japs, 
Hindus,  everything  that  could  strip  fruit  or  thought 
they  could  —  needs  much  wising  up  about  a  mere 
female  woman,  do  you?"  he  demanded.  "I  ad- 
vertised for  exactly  what  I  wanted,  and  you  are  it! 
You  are  hired." 

"But,  Mr.  Pegg  -  "  I  vainly  endeavored  to  in- 
terrupt. 

"Your  salary  will  be  five  thousand  dollars  a  year, 
your  keep  and  all  expenses,"  he  went  on  as  if  I  had 
not  spoken.  "You  will  commence  work  to-morrow 
morning  at  nine  o'clock  and  the  next  day  we  sail  for 
Italy  and  a  course  in  how  to  be  refined  though  Ameri- 
can." 

I  assure  you  that  my  senses  staggered  beneath  the 
force  of  his  announcement.  Five  thousand  dollars  a 
year  !  Italy  !  Incredible  !  Like  a  dream  come  true. 

"My  Eastern  bank  is  the  Guarantee,"  said  he. 
"Look  me  up  if  you  like.  I  have  the  money  and  a 
honest  name.  Nobody  in  the  world's  got  a  thing  on 
me.  And  as  the  notice  is  kind  of  short,  and  you  might 
like  a  little  advance  to  buy  some  knitting  or  something 
to  take  with  you,  here  is  a  hundred  to  bind  the  bargain. 
And  now  good  night,  Miss  Talbot  —  I  got  the  Eastern 
Apple  Growers  coming  in  ten  minutes.  See  you  to- 
morrow at  nine  !  Good  night,  good  night  !" 

And  almost  immediately  I  found  myself  edged  into 
the  anteroom,  where  already  several  persons  —  fruit 
venders,  I  presume—  were  in  waiting. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  23 

"But,  Mr.  Pegg,"  I  managed  to  ejaculate,  "your 
daughter  may  not  like  me.  Am  I  not  to  meet  her 
before  I  leave?" 

"I  should  say  not!"  exclaimed  her  father.  "She 
doesn't  know  anything  about  this.  I  am  leaving  the 
breaking  of  the  whole  idea  to  you!  Good  night!" 

With  these  alarming  words  the  door  shut  behind 
me;  and  presently,  I  scarcely  knew  how,  I  found  my- 
self once  more  upon  the  solid  reality  of  the  Boston 
street,  with  only  the  hundred-dollar  bill  as  evidence 
that  the  whole  experience  had  been  other  than  a  dream. 


II 

rAs  my  dear  father  used  to  say,  it  is  personality 
rather  than  character  which  holds  the  world's  atten- 
tion, and  this  was  undoubtedly  the  case  with  Miss 
Alicia  Pegg,  or  Peaches,  as  she  was  termed  by  her 
'surviving  parent.  It  is  the  unqualified  fact  that  even 
at  this  tumultuous  period  of  my  life  it  is  her  personality 
rather  than  my  esteemed  sister's  character  which  over- 
shadows my  memory.  And  although  without  doubt 
Euphemia's  impeccable  virtue  and  righteousness  should 
have  won  the  struggle  I  find  myself  impatient  of  her 
just  reproaches,  her  critical  indignation,  and  even  of 
her  final  cold  and  terrible  dismissal  of  me  from  the 
house  of  my  fathers  as  meet  punishment  for  the  crime 
of  earning  five  thousand  dollars  per  annum;  a  feat 
which  she  somehow  contrived  to  make  appear  in  the 
light  of  an  outrage  unworthy  of  serious  discussion,  and 
rendering  me  unfit  to  remain  longer  under  the  paternal 
roof. 

True,  I  had  already  dismissed  myself  before  she 
did  so,  the  fact  being  implicit  in  my  agreement  with 
Mr.  Pegg.  And  as  for  my  father's  roof,  there  had 
been  rather  more  than  a  likelihood  of  its  being  perma- 
nently removed  from  over  both  our  heads  had  we  at- 
tempted to  remain  beneath  it  in  idleness  much  longer. 
But  Euphemia  was  a  true  woman — far  more  genuinely 
feminine  than  I  shall  ever  be,  and  her  heart  ever 
overruled  her  reason.  In  fact  she  had  often  publicly 
maintained  that  it  was  unwomanly  to  reason  very  much. 

24 


Secondly,  I  had  for  weeks  anticipated  that  the  an- 
nouncement of  my  intention  of  going  to  work  would 
result  in  a  terrible  scene,  and  so  was  somewhat  pre- 
pared for  the  deluge,  though  I  had  hoped  it  would  be 
less  violent  than  it  proved. 

I  will  draw  a  veil  over  this  section  of  my  narrative, 
because  it  was  purely  a  family  affair,  of  no  possible 
interest  to  the  public,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  sister 
truly  meant  all  that  she  said.  Suffice  to  recount  that 
I  left  her  seventy-five  dollars  with  the  promise — unac- 
cepted— to  send  more  shortly,  and  departed  at  eight- 
thirty  the  following  morning,  taking  a  few  belongings 
in  the  small  trunk  which  I  had  had  at  school  when  a 
girl,  and  receiving  a  tearful  farewell  from  Galadia, 
if  not  from  my  dear  sister,  for  whom  in  reality  I  was 
setting  forth  into  the  wide  world. 

"Freedom  Talbot,"  said  I  to  myself  as  the  hack 
which  I  had  felt  justified  in  hiring  to  transport  me 
to  the  hotel  moved  away — "Freedom  Talbot,  face  the 
world  with  a  smile — and  soon  you  will  be  smiling  in 
your  heart.  Freedom  should  mean  more  than  a  name 
to  you — it  should  mean  and  must  mean  the  welcoming 
of  adventure.'" 

And  thus  resolutely  putting  behind  me  the  last  vestige 
of  feminine  weakness  I  assumed  in  spirit  at  least  the 
attitude  which  I  knew  my  dear  father  would  have  re- 
quired of  the  son  he  had  hoped  I  would  be,  and  was 
presently  set  down  before  the  hotel,  where  I  directed 
the  porter  about  my  trunk,  surrendered  my  dear  fath- 
er's umbrella,  my  own  folding  lace  parasol  and  dolman, 
together  with  my  valise,  to  the  same  little  boy  who  had 
so  kindly  attended  me  the  day  before,  and  for  whom 
I  had  remembered  to  bring  a  package  of  ginger  cookies. 
Even  the  elevator,  that  flying  gilded  bird  cage,  held 


26  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

no  terrors  for  me  to-day,  and  I  ascended  to  the  seventh 
floor  without  a  qualm. 

So  much  for  character  and  its  hold  upon  the  human 
mind.  The  entire  episode  of  leaving  what  for  fifty 
years  had  been  my  home  is  somewhat  hazy.  What 
I  encountered  upon  entering  the  anteroom  of  the  Cop- 
ley-Plaza's royal  suite  for  the  second  time  I  shall  never 
forget.  And  this  evidences  my  claim  regarding  per- 
sonality. 

It  was  precisely  one  minute  of  nine  by  my  dear 
father's  chronometer,  and  my  arrival  must  have  been 
expected,  and  yet  several  moments  elapsed  prior  to  the 
opening  of  the  door  outside  of  which  I  stood.  In 
point  of  fact  I  eventually  opened  it  myself,  inasmuch 
as  it  was  not  quite  closed  and  from  the  noise  inside  I 
deduced  that  my  knocking  and  the  ringing  of  the  small 
boy  who  accompanied  me  were  not  discernible  above 
the  clamor.  The  most  amazing  language  came  out 
to  me. 

"Come  on  you,  seven!"  said  a  female  voice  excitedly. 
"Oh  baby!  Come,  you  loving  little  Joe!"  said  a  male 
voice. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  I  entered,  the  patience 
and  perhaps  the  curiosity  of  my  young  companion 
breaking  under  the  strain,  and  then  we  beheld  a  most 
remarkable  picture. 

Seated  upon  either  end  of  the  gold-and-marble  table 
in  the  middle  of  the  magnificent  and  formal  apart- 
ment were  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman.  The 
latter  was  in  the  very  act  of  shaking  dice  from  the 
palm  of  her  hand.  I  at  once  recognized  them  because 
my  dear  father  indulged  in  backgammon,  and  pos- 
sessed a  pair.  But  the  young  female  who  was!  occu- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  27 

pied  with  them  resembled  nothing  I  had  ever  before  en- 
countered. 

To  begin  with,  she  was  of  tremendous  height — the 
tallest  girl  I  had  ever  beheld  or  ever  shall,  standing, 
as  I  afterward  ascertained,  six  feet  two  without  the 
unwholesome  French  heels  she  later  affected.  Her 
exquisite  face  was/  as  clear  cut  and  regular  of  feature 
as  that  upon  the  shell  cameo  which  my  dear  father 
gave  my  dear  mother  when  they  became  betrothed. 
Her  hair  was  so  brilliantly  gold  as  to  seem  artificially 
gilded — not  with  chemicals  but  with  burnished  metal — 
and  waved  low  over  her  ears  with  a  grace  impossible 
of  imitation  by  the  hair  dresser's  art.  Her  coloring 
was  perfect  and  her  wide  set  eyes  were  startlingly  dark 
brown,  as  were  the  rather  heavy  brows  above  them. 

This  young  Juno  was  clad  in  a  dress  of  violet  satin 
heavily  embroidered  in  gold  and  coral  beads,  a  gar- 
ment clearly  intended  for  the  most  elaborate  of  after- 
noon functions,  and  this  costume  was  further  embel- 
lished by  a  pair  of  black-and-white  sports  shoes,  such 
as  are  worn  upon  tennis  courts.  But  curiously  enough 
this  outrageous  costume  was  not  the  first  thing  that 
registered  upon  my  vision.  The  girl  herself  shone 
like  the  sun,  dwarfing  her  garments  and  almost  neu- 
tralizing them. 

Of  the  young  man  I  will  say  only  this:  He  was  a 
chauffeur,  properly  liveried,  and  though  a  clean,  de- 
cent-looking young  man,  he  was  a  distinctly  common 
person,  a  thought  which  curiously  did  not  occur  to 
me  until  later.  He  was  an  ngly  young  man  with  a 
long  nose. 

It  was  a  full  moment  that  I  stood  in  the  doorway 
before  they  saw  me,  and  then  the  girl  slid  from  her 
perch  with  a  blank  look  of  amazement. 


28  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Judas  Priest!  Holy  mackerel!"  sjhe  said  involun- 
tarily. Then  quickly  recovering  herself  she  came  for- 
ward politely.  "I  guess  you  are  in  the  wrong  pew," 
she  said.  "Did  you  want  anybody?" 

"It's  for  you,  Miss  Peaches,"  said  the  infant  who 
carried  my  luggage.  "The  new  nurse  has  came." 

"What  d'yer  mean — new  nurse?"  queried  the 
beauty,  wrinkling  her  handsome  nosje.  "Are  you  sure 
this  is  for  our  ranch?" 

"Perhaps  your  father  has  been  up  to  something  new, 
Peaches/'  said  the  chauffeur,  sliding  from  his  end 
of  the  table  and  removing  the  cap,  which  had  all  the 
time  remained  upon  the  back  of  his  red  head. 

I  felt  it  time  to  enlighten  them. 

"I  am  the  new  governess  for  Miss  Alicia  Pegg,"  I 
said  with  what  dignity  I  could  muster  under  the  circum- 
stances. "Mr.  Pegg  engaged  me  yesterday." 

"There!"  exclaimed  the  chauffeur.    "I  told  you  so!" 

"Shut  up,  Dicky!"  snapped  the  beauty,  becoming 
suddenly  serious,  not  to  say  alarmed,  and  looking  down 
upon  me  from  her  enormous  height  very  much  as  if  I 
had  been  something  terrible — like,  say,  a  mouse.  "Shut 
up,  Dicky,  and  let  me  handle  this.  So  my  old  man 
hired  you,  did  he?"  she  went  on  gravely.  "Without 
a  word  to  me!  Well,  that's  not  your  fault.  We  will 
have  to  talk  this  over  in  private.  Sit  down,  ma'am; 
here's  a  nice  chair.  Get  out,  cutie !" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  the  little  page  boy,  who 
promptly  dropped  my  baggage  and  prepared  for  flight. 
There  was  that  in  the  young  woman's  voice  which 
betrayed  the  habit  of  command.  But  with  a  gesture  I 
detained  him. 

"Wait,  little  boy.  I  have  something  for  you  this 
time!"  I  said. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 29 

The  boy  stopped  in  his  tracks  and  waited  quite  as 
promptly  as  if  it  were  a  custom  with  him,  while  I 
delved  into  the  depths  of  my  reticule  and  produced  six 
nice  brown  sugar  cookies,  which  I  presented.  He  was 
pleased,  I  perceived  that.  Indeed  he  was  quite  word- 
less with  surprise.  But  I  knew  they  were  wholesome 
and  that  six  were  not  too  many,  and  presently  he  was 
shut  out  by  the  chauffeur,  who  leaned  against  the  closed 
portal  shaking  with  unaccountable  mirth.  Miss  Pegg 
seemed  to  see  no  humor  in  the  situation  any  more  than 
did  I  myself,  but  led  me  to  the  window  and  made  me 
sit  there  opposite  her.  The  Dick  person  leaned  against 
the  center  table,  toying  with  the  dice. 

'^What's  the  name,  did  you  say?"  she  inquired. 

"My  name  is  Freedom  Talbot — Miss  Talbot!"  said 
I. 

"Gee !    That's  funny !"  said  Miss  Peaches  Pegg. 

"It  sure  is !"  remarked  the  chauffeur. 

"It's  Dick's  name,  too!"  said  my  hostess,  "Make 
you  acquainted — shake  hands  with  Mr.  Talbot,  Miss 
Talbot!" 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  acquiesce,  for  the  young 
chap  without  the  least  trace  of  self -consciousness  came 
forward  most  politely. 

"Pleased  to  meetcher!"  he  said.  "I  wonder  are  you 
any  relative  to  my  Aunt  Lucy?  That's  my  father's 
sister,  but  he  got  killed  in  a  gun  fight  up  to  Nome." 

"I  scarcely  think  it  likely,"  said  I.  "Our  family 
is  practically  extinct." 

"Well,  never  mind  the  family  tree  just  now!"  said 
Alicia.  "And  let's  get  down  to  cases  on  this  dry- 
nurse  business.  Of  course,  Miss  Talbot,  I  realize  you 
are  not  to  blame  in  this.  But  it's  got  to  be  under- 


30 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

stood  right  here  and  now.  Tell  me  what  the  old  boy 
put  over  on  me  this  time?" 

Well,  I  recounted  the  tale  in  as  much  detail  as  I 
could  recall,  amid  continuous  interruptions  from  my 
strange  audience,  beginning  with  my  situation  at  home, 
and  ending  with  my  quarrel  with  Euphemia.  When 
my  recital  was  complete  Miss  Peaches  gave  a  long 
whistle,  which  feat  was  amazingly  expressive  of  her 
emotions. 

"Well,  see  here,  Miss  Freedom,"  she  said.  "As  I 
get  the  dope,  it  is,  that  you  are  to  take  me  out  and  show 
me  the  world  and  everything — to  teach  me  what  little 
it  is  proper  for  me  t  .  know — and  how  to  tell  the  culls 
from  the  sound  fruit?  Well,  well!  Do  you  believe 
you  can  do  it?" 

"I,  of  course,  believe  that  I  would  be  a  proper  influ- 
ence and  shield  for  a  young  woman !"  I  replied  quietly. 
"Else  I  would  not  have  engaged  to  perform  such  a 
task." 

"And  you'd  sure  be  gosh-awful  disappointed  if  you 
didn't  go  to  Europe,  wouldn't  you?"  she  went  on. 

As  I  made  no  reply  to  this  she  continued  to  guide 
the  conversation. 

"I  think  you  are  a  damn  good  sport  to  break  away 
at  your  age,"  she  went  on.  "And  it  would  be  a  crime 
to  send  you  back  to  the  corral.  I  know  just  how  it 
must  feel." 

"I  bet  you  do!"  said  the  Dick  person.  "After  the 
'ranch !" 

"You  see,  he  means  our  home  ranch,"  the  girl  ex- 
plained. "Pa  has  kept  me  there  since  I  was  a  seed- 
ling. Never  been  away  from  it  until  three  weeks  ago — 
kept  me  pure  and  healthy  and  everything.  But  I've 
got  fed  up  on  it,  and  I'm  glad  to  get  loose  and  see  life, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  81 

even  with  you  tagging  along.  Tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
So  long  as  you've  got  your  camp  all  broke  I'll  help 
you  to  see  the  world  if  you'll  help  me  to  see  the  world 
instead  of  preventing  it.  I'll  be  reasonable  if  you 
will.  Are  you  on?" 

"I  am !"  said  I,  half  hypnotized  by  her  charm.  "I'm 
on!" 

"Good!  It's  a  bet!"  cried  Peaches,  suddenly  shak- 
ing my  hand  with  a  grip  of  most  unladylike  vigor. 
"Now  let's  dope  this  out  some  more.  I've  bought  all 
the  clothes  in  the  stores  in  San  Francisco,  at  least  all 
costing  over  a  hundred  dollars  each,  as  befits  my  new 
society  stunt,  so  we  ought  to  start  right  off  and  go 
some  place  where  we  know  somebody  besides  the  head 
waiters.  Do  you  really  know  a  lot  of  swells?" 

"I — well,  really — I  know  the  proper  people,  of 
course,"  said  I.  "But  I  don't  think  that  you  would 
fancy  Boston  very  much." 

"Oh,  Boston  is  all  O.  K."  she  said.  "Only,  of 
course,  it's  not  like  San  Francisco — or  even  Fresno. 
No  pep,  and  a  rotten  climate.  Don't  you  know  any 
gay  ducks  some  other  place?" 

"Well,  let  me  cogitate  the  matter,"  said  I.  "I  know 
the  Loringstons,  in  New  York — .two  charming  maiden 
ladies." 

"Hold  me — or  I'll  die  of  excitement!"  said  Peaches. 
"Nothing  doing!  If  I've  got  to  be  pushed  into  the 
world  of  fashion  and  gayety  I  want  there  to  be  some 
class  to  it — snappy  stuff — titles  and  everything.  Do 
you  know  any  titles  ?" 

"Only  the  dean  of  Radcliffe,"  I  responded;  "unless 
one  were  to  except  the  Countess  Veruchio.  But  she 
lives  in  Monte  Carlo.  She  was  my  first  cousin  until 
she  married  this  foreign  person." 


32  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Missi  Pegg's  large  eyes  grew  incredibly  larger,  and 
instinctively  she  turned  her  gaze  toward  the  neglected 
dice  upon  the  center  table.  I  shuddered  at  her  words 
which  followed.  Had  I  already,  unwittingly  in  my 
novitiate  as  guide,  mentor  and  friend,  set  her  upon 
evil  ways  ?  I  deeply  feared  so. 

"A  countess !"  she  breathed.  "Monte  Carlo !  Why, 
that's  in  Italy !  Oh  boy !  Oh  boy !  Say,  do  they  rattle 
the  bones  at  Monte  Carlo?" 


Ill 

How  many  persons  must  perforce  get  all  their  ro- 
mance at  second  hand !  Of  course,  as  my  dear  father 
often  said,  gentlewomen  should  get  their  experiences 
from  books  and  from  the  stage,  and  no  lady  experi- 
ences the  primal  emotions  except  vicariously.  But  none 
the  less  I  had  occasionally  been  aware  of  the  desire 
to  live  more  full  a  life  than  hitherto  circumstance  had 
rendered  possible.  Now  I  was  brought  into  such  in- 
timate contact  with  a  young  career  that  I  felt  almost 
as  though  I  were  indeed  living  it  myself,  and  not 
half  an  hour  after  my  entrance  upon  my  new  duties 
I  was,  as  it  were,  engulfed  in  the  personality  of  my 
charge. 

"Come  on  into  your  room!"  she  said,  picking  up 
my  carpetbag  as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  a  mere  trifle. 
"Come  on,  Dicky ;  bring  the  box !" 

The  Dicky  person  obeyed  whistling  a  jaunty  tune, 
and  presently  I  found  myself  established  in  a  most 
luxurious  bedroom.  The  chauffeur  vanished,  closing 
the  door,  and  Peaches,  disposing  the  luggage  upon  a 
receptable  constructed  for  that  very  purpose,  perched 
upon  the  foot  of  the  bed,  her  long  limbs  making  that 
lofty  elevation  none  too  high  for  her.  I  soon  learned 
that  she  seldom  sat  upon  a  chair  if  anything  else 
offered. 

"Say,  Miss  Talbot,"  she  began  as  I  laid  out  my  toilet 
articles — "say,  Miss  Talbot,  isn't  Dick  a  king?" 

"Eh?"  said  I,  startled. 

33 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


"I  said  isn't  Dick  a  corker?"  she  repeated.  "Do 
you  know,  I  would  have  just  about  died  out  on  the 
ranch  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him.  Pa  picked  him  up 
in  Fresno  when  he  was  a  hopper — picking  hops  with 
a  bunch  of  greasers.  Brought  him  home  for  me  to 
play  with.  We  went  swimming  together  and  riding 
together  and  everything  when  we  were  kids.  Then  pa 
sent  him  to  school  with  me,  and  when  he  got  some 
learning  he  gave  him  a  job  as  foreman  on  the  home 
outfit." 

"He  seems  a  nice  young  person,"  said  I,  "but  he  is 
a  chauffeur!" 

"You  bet  he  is!"  said  Peaches  enthusiastically. 
"The  first  car  pa  bought  made  him  that!  He  can  do 
anything  with  a  car.  I  am  in  love  with  him !" 

"Miss  Pegg!"  I  said  horrified.  "A  servant!  What 
would  your  father  say!" 

"He'd  say  considerable!"  remarked  Peaches.  "But 
he  doesn't  know  it.  And  anyhow,  I  don't  want  to 
marry  Dicky,  even  if  he  is  your  cousin.  I  just  like 
being  in  love  with  some  one,  and  he's  simply  crazy 
about  me!" 

Her  innocence,  not  to  say  ignorance,  was  appalling. 
'High  time,  indeed,  that  she  had  a  proper  chaperon! 

"You  must  not  play  with  so  serious  a  subject!"  I 
said  severely.  "And  the  young  man  is  no  relation  of 
mine!" 

"How  can  you  be  sure  of  that?"  asked  the  terrible 
young  woman.  "There  may  have  been  some  live 
wire  in  your  family  that  went  West,  you  know!" 

To  this  I  had  no  reply,  for  in  point  of  fact  my 
father's  younger  brother  had  indeed  been  a  wild  spirit 
who  refused  to  enter  the  ministry  and  had  vanished 
to  the  West,  from  which  region  he  had  never  returned 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 35 

nor  sent  any  token  of  his  existence  except,  upon  one 
occasion  shortly  after  his  departure,  a  specimen  of 
polished  redwood,  which  at  that  very  moment  was 
reposing  in  our  curio  cabinet  at  home.  I  determined, 
however,  to  make  no  mention  of  the  circumstances. 
One  is  so  seldom  able  to  avoid  one's  relatives. 

"Do  you  not  think  a  simpler  frock  would  be  bet- 
ter for  luncheon?"  I  asked,  changing  the  subject.  Love 
was  rather  too  personal  a  matter  on  which  to  press  just 
at  first,  but  really  the  girl's  clothing  was  certainly 
somewhere  within,  my  legitimate  province.  "Your 
gown  is  very  beautiful.  And  you  won't  be  offended, 
but  I  am  sure  your  father  expects  me  to  tell  you  these 
things." 

She  looked  at  my  own  costume  by  way  of  reply ;  not 
rudely,  but  frankly  and  interestedly. 

"I  don't  believe  you  know  one  scrap  more  about 
clothes  than  I  do!"  she  said  at  last.  "We  both  of  us 
look  the  limit.  But  after  all,  what  does  it  matter? 
You  are  dowdy  and  I  am  crude,  but  we  should  worry !" 

"Come  on  down  or  pa  will  be  clawing  the  air,"  was 
her  greeting. 

She  left  me  then  to  my  unpacking  and  I  did  not 
see  her  again  for  about  two  hours.  Then  she  stuck  her 
head  in  abruptly,  without  knocking.  "He  certainly  can 
eat,  though  I  don't  think  much  of  the  food  in  the  East. 
You  ought  to  see  the  meals  in  California!" 

There  was  no  resisting  the  young  giantess.  With  no 
further  ado  she  swung  me  along  to  the  parlor,  where 
her  still  more  gigantic  parent  gave  me  an  absent- 
minded  greeting,  quite  as  if  I  had  been  in  his  employ 
for  years.  He  took  a  sheaf  of  papers  to  the  table 
with  him,  and  we  descended  to  the  dining  room,  I 
vaguely  wondering  whether  or  not  the  young  chauffeur 


36  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

would  join  us.    Peaches  seemed  to  discern  my  thought. 

"Dick  won't  eat  with  us  since  pa  bought  him  that 
trick  suit  of  clothes!"  she  complained.  "And  he  says 
he  actually  likes  wearing  them,  though  I  know  per- 
fectly well  he  only  does  it  because  he  thinks  it  gives 
us  class." 

During  luncheon  Mr.  Pegg  spoke  only  once. 

"All  ready  to  sail  to-morrow?"  he  inquired. 

"Yep!"  replied  his  daughter.  "Say,  pa,"  she  went 
on,  "Miss  Talbot's  got  a  cousin  in  Monte  Carlo  that's 
a  honest-to-goodness  countess!" 

"Cable  her  we  are  coming!"  said  Silas  Pegg  trucu- 
lently. 

And  though  I  believe  that  Mentone  had  been  our 
original  destination  the  cable  was  actually  dispatched, 
though  I  wondered  somewhat  how  Cousin  Abby  would1 
receive  it.  In  her  girlhood  she  had  been  rather  formal, 
and  I  entertained  a  qualm  or  two  about  sending  it. 
But  we  were  not  asking  to  visit  her,  so  things  might 
not  be  too  dreadful  after  all.  Besides  which,  I  was 
beginning  to  experience  a  distinct  liking  for  these  Cali- 
fornians  with  all  their  native  crudities.  My  world  was 
a  magic  one  now,  and  a  visit  to  the  Veruchio  house- 
hold appeared  no  more  strange  than  any  other  part 
of  my  adventure. 

Next  morning  Alicia  opened  my  door  quite  uncere- 
moniously and  disclosed  herself  clad  in  a  nautical  cos- 
tume of  blue  serge  with  a  sailor  collar  and  a  little 
white  hat  absurdly  set  upon  her  magnificent  head. 

"Heave  ahoy !"  she  called  cheerily.  "We  are  about 
to  sail  the  ocean  blue !  How  do  you  like  my  pull-f or- 
the-shore  effect  ?  Say,  have  you  ever  been  on  a  boat  ? 
Is  it  anything  as  bad  as  a  Pullman  sleeper?" 

"My  dear,  I  have  been  on  neither!"  I  protested. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  37 

"Gee,  I  hope  the  berths  are  longer !"  she  exclaimed. 
"They  were  built  on  the  idea  that  none  of  the  natives. 
would  want  to  leave  California,  I  guess,  and  they  were 
darn  near  right!  So  you've  never  been  anywhere. 
Well,  I  had  a  hunch  I'd  be  the  one  to  do  the  chaperon- 
ing. Never  mind,  I'll  show  you  the  world.  I  have 
decided  overnight  that  I  really  ought  to  take  you  in 
charge,  and  I'm  not  one  to  shirk  my  duty." 

"Very  well,  my  dear,"  said  I.  "But  first  may  I 
suggest  that  a  simple  coat  and  skirt  would  be  less  con- 
spicuous and  quite  as  appropriate?  Will  you  not 
change  to  it,  if  you  have  one  ?" 

"All  right ;  I  will  if  you  will  smooth  out  those  groups 
of  curls,"  said  Peaches,  eying  me  critically. 

"But  I  have  worn  them  always!"  I  protested, 
shocked. 

"Just  the  same,  they  are  the  limit!"  she  said  stub- 
bornly. "And  so  are  those  silk  gloves.  Come  on,  let 
me  fix  your  hair!  No — I  have  a  bright  idea.  Let's 
have  the  girl  that  does  hair  here  in  the  hotel  fix  you 
up.  Come  on,  be  a  sport !" 

I  looked  at  myself  in  the  mirror,  and  truth  to  tell 
my  curled  fringe  did  appear  a  trifle  old-fashioned. 
But  I  refused,  with  thanks  and  dignity. 

"Miss  Peaches!"  I  said.  "Your  father  engaged 
me  as  I  am,  and  I  feel  it  incumbent  upon  me  to  remain 
thus." 

"Oh,  all  right!"  said  she,  and  strode  out  of  the 
room.  I  fancied  she  was  angry;  but  to  my  surprise, 
upon  our  departure  she  appeared  clad  in  quite  a  lady- 
like tailored  suit  and  a  small  hat. 

"Oh,  I  know  when  somebody  gives  me  a  real  tip," 
she  said,  though  I  hadn't  spoken;  and  then,  accom- 
panied by  a  most  stupendous  array  of  luggage,  includ- 


38 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

ing  my  own  small  trunk  and  valise,  we  set  forth  upon 
the  most  perilous  journey  of  which  I  could  conceive. 

Indeed,  indeed  I  was  grateful  throughout  it  for  the 
thought  that  our  minister,  Mr.  MacAdams,  prayed 
so  loudly  for  the  safety  of  travelers  by  land  and  sea 
each  Sunday,  and  that  this  was  Saturday,  hence  there 
would  be  but  little  delay  between  our  departure  and 
the  weekly  renewal  of  his  petition.  For  we  began  our 
travels  in  no  less  a  vehicle  than  a  terrific  red  automo- 
bile driven  by  the  irrepressible  Richard,  or  Dick,  Tal- 
bot,  who  greeted  me  cheerfully  and  somehow  not  ac- 
tually disrespectfully  as  "Cousin  Mary,"  which  was 
not,  of  course,  in  any  sense  correct. 

I  entered  the  vehicle  with  much  unuttered  protest. 
I  did  not  like  motor  vehicles  and  had  indeed  never  en- 
tered one  before,  having  always  maintained  their  in- 
elegance. My  dear  father  kept  horses,  though  it  is 
true  he  died  somewhat  prior  to  the  invention  of  auto- 
mobiles. Nevertheless  I  took  my  seat  beside  Mr.  Pegg 
in  the  rear,  and  concealed  as  best  I  might  a  terror 
which  was  not  lessened  when,  stopping  at  the  rail- 
way station,  Talbot,  the  chauffeur,  was  dismissed  to 
gather  up  some  spare  bags,  and  Peaches  took  the  steer- 
ing gear.  The  remainder  of  the  ride  is  a  blur  in  my 
memory,  filled  with  a  horrid  realization  that  we  upset 
an  apple  cart,  or  I  thought  we  had,  until  looking  back- 
ward I  saw  it  miraculously  intact;  that  we  seemingly 
murdered  two  police  officers,  most  certainly  grazed 
a  load  of  baled  hay,  and  barely  escaped  collision  with 
a  dozen  pedestrains.  Yet  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
momentous  experience  Mn  Pegg,  who  had  calmly 
smoked  a  large  cheroot  during  the  trip,  complimented 
his  daughter  upon  her  skill.  I  was  beginning  to  under- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  59 

stand  their  cryptic  speech  a  little  better  or  else  I  should 
not  have  comprehended. 

"Some  speed  queen!"  he  remarked. 

"One  hoss  or  sixty,  I  should  trouble  which!"  said 
she. 

And  then  Talbot,  the  chauffeur,  or  Richard,  as  I 
determined  to  call  him,  reappeared,  and  together  with 
a  crowd  of  porters  and  other  travelers  we  passed  into 
the  gloomy  cavern  of  a  covered  dock  and  up  a  most 
precarious  gangwav  into  a  ship  which  differed  little 
upon  first  acquaintance  from  the  great  hotel  we  had 
just  left,  except  that  the  apartments  were  rather 
smaller.  I  had  once  before  taken  a  boat  trip  to  Nan- 
tucket  to  see  an  old  servant  of  ours  who  was  ill,  and 
the  vessel  which  conveyed  me  was  not  in  the  least  like 
the  Gigantic.  But  the  impression  of  the  latter's  resem- 
blance to  a  hotel  was  presently  removed  from  my 
mind.  In  point  of  fact  everything  was  removed  from 
not  only  my  mind  but  from  the  other  portions  of  my 
anatomy  which  delicacy  prevents  my  dwelling  on. 

Suffice  to  state  that  the  fact  of  our  being  in  posses- 
sion of  the  state  apartments,  the  novelty  of  the  com- 
pact arrangements,  the  excitement  of  the  trip,  the 
amazing  crowds  of  strangers — all  presently  were  as 
naught  to  me.  Even  my  princely  emolument  was  as 
nothing,  and  the  sacrifice  I  had  made  for  my  sister  ap- 
peared of  no  importance.  Nothing  appeared  of  any 
importance  except  the  distress  of  my  body.  I  longed 
most  ardently  for  the  stability  of  the  house  on  Chest- 
nut Street,  and  it  seemed  inconceivable  that  I  had  ever 
left  my  dear  sister  of  my  own  free  will.  My  idea  of 
paradise  became  distorted  from  the  true  conception  to 
a  vision  of  any  place  other  than  that  in  which  I  was. 
Death,  once  so  far  removed  from  my  desire,  seemed 


40 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

the  only  tolerable  condition.  I  may  remark  in  passing 
that  this  state  of  mind  did  not  develop  in  me  until 
after  the  boat  had  passed  Boston  Light  and  encoun- 
tered the  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

The  account  of  my  first  impressions  of  a  transatlantic 
voyage  will  never  be  written  by  me,  as  they  contain 
material  fit  only  for  a  materia  medico,.  How  people 
can  take  such  a  trip  for  pleasure  is  to  me  a  mystery 
as  insoluble  as  the  fourth  dimension,  which  was  a 
favorite  topic  with  my  dear  father.  But  incredible  as  it 
may  seem,  some  persons  on  the  boat  actually  laid  claim 
to  an  enjoyable  experience,  and  among  these  Spartans 
were  my  employer  and  his  daughter;  and  also,  by  the 
latter's  evidence,  the  chauffeur,  who  was  traveling  first 
class.  Peaches  came  frequently  to  the  side  of  my  brass 
bedstead  and  bathed  my  forehead  with  cologne  water 
the  while  she  attempted  to  cheer  me  with  an  account 
of  her  doings. 

"I  told  pa  I'd  have  to  look  after  you !"  she  said  tri- 
umphantly. "And  I  will.  Never  mind,  Miss  Gov- 
erness, I'll  get  you  to  Europe  alive  and  show  you  the 
country.  Couldn't  you  come  on  deck?  It's  a  swell 
deck,  and  there's  the  nicest  young  man  up  there.  We've 
got  acquainted,  and  Dick  is  terribly  jealous!" 

"Alicia!"  I  managed  to  gasp.  "Who  is  the  young 
man?" 

"I  don't  know !"  she  said  truthfully.  "I  forgot  to  ask 
his  name,  but  he's  a  regular  sailor  in  good  standing." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you've  scraped  acquaintance 
with  a  common  sailor?"  I  said  feebly.  "Oh!  Alicia! 
I  fear  I  am  neglecting  my  duty  to  you,  and  yet  heaven 
knows  I  have  no  choice!" 

"If  you'd  only  get  up  and  out  you'd  be  better!" 
she  pronounced.  "And  we  might  find  a  captain  or  a 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  41 

mate  or  something  for  you.  Couldn't  you  eat  a  little 
steak  and  onions?"  she  added  anxiously.  "It  would 
give  you  strength." 

Later  she  returned  and  sat  beside  me  with  a  look  of 
rapture  upon  her  face.  I  was  in  an  exhausted  state 
despite  the  herb  tea  which  I  had  had  made  by  the  sea- 
going chambermaid  from  my  own  medicine  cabinet, 
and  taken  with  difficulty,  yet  I  was  calm  enough  for 
her  speech  to  impress  me. 

"The  moon  is  up,"  she  said  dreamily.  "And  the 
waves  are  like  the  Sierra  Mountains  gone  mad  and 
reeling  drunkenly  in  their  purple-and-black  mystery, 
with  the  foam  like  the  snows  that  the  yellow  sun  never 
melts.  The  air  is  like  wine.  I  am  glad  he  kissed  me." 

"Oh,  Peaches,  Peaches!  Who  kissed  you?"  I 
moaned,  struggling  to  my  elbow  in  horror. 

"Dick,"  she  replied.  "Somebody  had  to  kiss  some- 
body on  a  night  like  this,  and  it  just  happened  to  be 
us.  Don't  worry,  it  really  isn't  important.  I  never 
lose  my  head,  though  between  ourselves  I  sometimes 
wish  I  could.  When  I  do  I'll  marry  the  clever  man. 
But  I've  never  met  him  yet,  and  sometimes  that  makes 
me  sad.  I  want  to  be  in  love.  Really  in  love.  Don't 
you?" 

Despite  my  condition  I  could  not  but  be  attentive. 

"I  do  not  dwell  upon  such  subjects,"  I  replied. 

"Oh,  yes  you  do!"  said  Peaches  imperturbably. 
"Everyone  does!  Even  cows  and  birds  and  Chinese 
cooks.  But  some  of  us,  like  you,  don't  have  much 
luck,  and  some,  like  me,  have  a  trick  played  on  them 
by  Nature  that  ruins  everything." 

"How  so,  my  dear?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  too  tall!"  said  Peaches  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
indignation  at  fate.  "I'd  have  to  lean  over  to  spoon 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


with  anybody  I  ever  met  !  My  shoulder  is  the  highest 
and  therefore  the  handiest  !  My  hand  is  generally  the 
biggest!  Oh,  Lord!  How  can  a  girl  love  a  man 
she  has  to  bend  down  to  kiss?" 

And  suddenly  she  rushed  from  the  cabin,  overcome 
with  emotion,  leaving  me  to  sniff  at  a  camphor  bottle 
and  contemplate  an  entirely  new,  to  me,  phase  of 
feminine  tragedy.  And  incidentally  to  feel  more  deeply 
a  sense  of  the  responsibility  of  my  position  toward 
this  amazingly  innocent,  terrifyingly  frank  young  sav- 
age, who  wanted  to  be  in  love  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
say  so,  and  who  kissed  the  chauffeur  simply  and  solely 
because  it  was  a  moonlit  night!  I  felt  thoroughly 
convinced  that  Euphemia  would  not  approve  of  any 
such  conduct,  and  that  my  dear  father  would  have 
condemned  it  utterly,  and  I  made  every  effort  to  rise 
next  day  and  finish  out  the  voyage  in  close  proximity 
to  my  charge. 

But  somehow  or  other  the  span  of  time  had  escaped 
me  during  my  indisposition,  and  upon  completing  my 
toilet,  with  the  aid  of  the  young  person  who  had 
brewed  my  herb  tea,  I  learned  to  my  astonishment  that 
we  were  in  port  and  that  my  ability  to  rise  was  founded, 
not,  as  I  had  fancied,  in  my  having  attained  what  is 
rather  indelicately  known  as  "sea  leg?,"  but  was  due 
to  the  fact  of  the  boat  being  at  a  standstill.  I  only 
then  realized  that  I  had  been  ill  for  five  days.  Richard, 
the  chauffeur,  accompanied  Peaches  when  she  came  to 
get  me,  and  somehow  or  other  they  evolved  me  through 
the  complications  of  the  dock,  and  at  last  I  stood  upon 
foreign  soil. 

Not,  of  course,  that  the  English  are  really  foreigners, 
as  my  dear  father  often  remarked.  But  I  must  con- 
fess that  the  soil  of  Liverpool  felt  quite  foreign  to 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  48 

me.  It  appeared,  in  fact,  entirely  unsteady  and  of 
a  heaving  disposition,  more  what  one  might  have  ex- 
pected of  the  neighborhood  of  Vesuvius  and  the  other 
earthquake  countries.  But  Peaches  only  laughed  at 
me  when  I  called  her  attention  to  the  circumstance. 

"It's  you  that's  unsteady,  not  the  street !"  she  jeered. 
"Gee,  what  a  town!  What  a  country!  They  ought 
to  see  San  Francisco !  Why,  we've  done  twice  as  well 
in  half  the  time!" 

I  confess  I  was  disappointed  with  what  I  saw  of 
England,  which  was  little  enough,  because  Mr.  Pegg 
stopped  only  long  enough  to  pick  up  an  English  car, 
which  had  been  ordered  far  in  advance  and  was  await- 
ing us  at  Liverpool.  It  was  a  monstrous  affair  of  black 
trimmed  with  vermilion,  and  recalled  to  my  mind  noth- 
ing so  much  as  the  far-famed  dragon  which  was  slain 
by  St.  George — so  strong  and  fierce  and  capable  it 
looked.  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  almost  wept  at  sight 
of  it. 

"Oh,  baby  doll!"  he  said  over  and  over.  "If  that 
isn't  some  engine!" 

"Some  lug  box!"  remarked  Peaches  in  that  cryptic 
language  in  which  she  spoke  to  her  familias.  "Must 
have  set  pa  back  a  bushel  of  berries!" 

"I  want  to  hit  the  trail  for  the  Calais  boat!"  said 
Mr.  Pegg.  "We  aren't  going  to  stay  in  England. 
There's  no  art  in  England.  I  had  an  English  remit- 
tance man  working  for  me  once  and  he  told  me  so. 
He  says  all  the  good  art  is  in  the  Catholic  countries, 
except  what  has  been  smuggled  out  of  them.  He  told 
me  so,  and  he  was  a  educated  feller.  He  educated 
me  out  of  the  entire  pay  roll  one  week,  and  is  now 
working  for  the  U.  S.  Government  in  San  Quentin." 

"But,  Mr.  Pegg!"  I  ventured  to  protest.    "Think  of 


44  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Westminster  Abbey  and  the  Tower  and  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  the  home  of  Shakespere,  and — and  real  English 
muffins  and  English  culture  generally.  Surely  you 
do  not  intend  to  deprive  your  daughter  of  it?" 

"Not  by  a  damn  sight.  Meaning  no  offense,  Miss 
Talbot !"  said  Silas.  "But  the  trouble  is  they  all  speak 
English  over  here,  and  we  got  enough  Boston  accent 
right  on  your  person.  I  figure  that  foreign  travel  is 
foreign  travel,  and  I  mean  we  should  go  right  to  Rome, 
the  home  of  art ;  and  after  we  do  it  up  thoroughly,  work 
back  along  the  coast  where  they  speak  in  Italian  and 
French.  Somehow  it's  foreigner!" 

There  was  no  denying  that,  and  disappointed  as  I 
was  I  held  my  peace.  Mr.  Pegg  had  a  way  of  ordering 
our  existence  ahead,  as  if  we  were  a  part  of  his  busi- 
ness. And  indeed  I  presently  ascertained  that  the 
plunge  toward  Italy  was  at  bottom  a  commercial  un- 
dertaking. It  was  the  orange  and  olive  groves,  not 
the  art  galleries,  that  lured  him. 

"I'm  thinking  of  forming  an  American-Italian  olive 
crushers'  association,"  he  confided  to  me  as  we  sped 
alarmingly  along  a  toy  road  amidst  scenes  which  I  am 
sure  would  have  proved  quaint  had  we  been  going 
slowly  enough  to  see  them.  "And  an  orange  trust  that 
will  be  a  world-wide  proposition.  Oranges  are  a  great 
little  fruit — eat  'em,  drink  'em  and*  preserve  'em — the 
wood  is  swell.  A  great  game,  Miss  Talbot,  that  hurts 
nobody  and  is  of  benefit  to  all.  I'm  to  meet  this  here 
Pagreleri,  the  president  of  the  Sorrento  Company;  and 
while  Peaches  and  you  trot  round  to  the  picture  shows 
— I  mean  galleries — I'll  put  in  a  little  sight  seeing  on 
God's  green  hills!  I'd  rather  see  the  prospect  of  a 
hundred  thousand  vats  of  brine  and  oil  than  the  finest 
picture  any  artist  ever  drew." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  45 

"Are  we  going  to  the  Ritz,  pa?"  said  Peaches,  break- 
ing in  with  a  shout  from  her  seat  in  front  beside  Rich- 
ard. "I'm  dying  to  see  if  the  Ritz  is  as  nice  as  the 
St.  Francis,  though  I  bet  it  won't  be!" 

"Yep!"  said  the  parent,  and  began  operations  upon 
a  new  cigar.  And  that  is  all  that  I  saw  of  London  the 
historical.  The  dining  room  and  the  bedrooms  of  a 
hotel  that  had  not  twopennyworth  of  difference  from 
that  in  Boston.  We  dined  at  seven  in  an  almost  empty 
salon,  and  went  afterward  to  see  a  motion  picture  of 
some  American  by  the  name  of  Charles  Chapin  or 
something  of  the  sort,  an  amazing  affair  centering 
about  a  custard  pie  and  not  at  all  to  my  taste.  Mr. 
Pegg  and  Miss  Peaches  were  enormously  intrigued  by 
it,  as  was  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  whom  they  insisted 
should  accompany  them.  They  laughed  continu- 
ously; at  what,  I  could  not  appreciate.  And  it  was  in 
this  theater  that  we  first  beheld  that  young  man  who 
was  fated  to  play  so  conspicuous  part  in  our  lives, 
and,  alas,  in  the  career  of  many  a  newspaper  reporter 
as  well! 

It  is  my  impression  that  I  was  the  first  to  notice  him, 
and  my  attention  was  directed  to  him  by  the  curious 
behavior  of  two  men  who  sat  directly  in  front  of  me. 
Except  for  their  observations  concerning  him  he  might 
easily  have  escaped  my  notice.  But  as  the  entertain- 
ment offered  me  was  so  far  removed  from  my  under- 
standing my  interest  was  focused  upon  the  personnel 
of  those  members  of  the  audience  who  chanced  to  be 
seated  nearest  me.  My  dear  father  was  in  the  habit 
of  saying  that  observation  of  the  human  race  is  the 
truest  form  of  education  and  I  have  ever  diligently 
tried  to  follow  whatever  precepts  he  laid  down.  And 
so  this  evening  I  had  in  turn  observed  a  stout  person 


46  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

in  a  beaded  gown,  a  pair  of  young  soldiers  in  red  coats, 
and  then  the  two  men  directly  in  front  of  me.  They 
were  unobtrusive  in  appearance,  but  palpably  of  Latin 
extraction.  Their  clothing  was  nondescript  and  they 
would  have  passed  unnoticed  in  a  crowd.  One  wore 
a  little  black  mustache  and  the  other  bore  a  slight 
scar  near  his  left  ear.  As  I  looked  at  them  I  perceived 
that  they  were  giving  even  less  attention  to  the  pic- 
ture than  myself,  and  seemed  to  be  furtively  searching 
for  something  out  in  the  vast  area  of  semidarkness 
ahead  of  us.  Suddenly  one  clutched  the  other  by  the 
arm  and  spoke. 

"There  he  is!"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  speaking  in 
French. 

Instantly  both  became  alert.  Almost  imperceptibly 
the  man  with  the  scar  contrived  to  point  without  rais- 
ing his  hand.  But  I  followed  the  direction  of  his  com- 
panion's eyes,  and  made  out  the  objective,  a  young  man 
who  sat  on  the  curve  of  the  orchestra  seats  just  under 
the  balcony,  below  us.  His  position  was  such  that 
when  he  turned  his  head  it  was  possible  to  see  his 
profile  against  the  exit  light  beyond.  And  it  was  a 
profile  one  would  not  easily  forget.  I  at  once  thought 
of  Romeo — that  daring  young  Italian  lover  who  met 
so  unfortunate  an  end,  and  whose  tragic  story  was  one 
of  the  secret  absorptions  of  my  girlhood.  Yet  this 
young  man  even  in  the  dimness  of  the  theater  con- 
veyed a  sense  of  strength  which  had  not  been  con- 
vincing to  me  in  the  actor  whom  I  had  once  seen  in 
that  part.  He  sat  well  above  his  neighbors  in  height, 
and  there  was  a  certain  swing  and  rhythm  to  his  broad 
shoulders  as  he  swayed  with  amusement  at  the  projec- 
tion of  the  cinematograph  that  conveyed  remarkable 
resiliency  and  buoyant  youth  or,  as  I  fear  my  charge 


would  express  it,  "pep."  He  was  a  gentleman,  I 
could  see  that,  of  unusual  elegance,  and  attractive 
enough  to  command  my  attention  without  what  fol- 
lowed on  the  part  of  the  two  other  observers.  Both 
spoke  in  French. 

"Sapristi!  He  will  not  escape  this  time!"  said  the 
man  with  the  mustache,  pitching  his  voice  very  low. 
"The  eel!" 

"Will  you  do  for  him  at  the  door?"  whispered  the 
other.  "Or  as  he  attempts  to  reach  the  hotel?" 

"I  have  something  better  than  that,"  said  the  first. 
"We  know  he  has  it  on  him.  The  hotel  may  be  too 
late.  He  must  not  get  to  the  theater  door  before 
we  do — or  else " 

I  heard  no  more  because  of  the  sudden  palpitations 
of  my  heart,  which  seemed  likely  to  smother  me.  These 
two  men  were  plainly  robbers  planning  to  waylay  and 
perhaps  murder  that  nice-looking  young  man  who  sat 
there  in  such  innocent,  unconscious  enjoyment  of  the 
photographic  antics  of  the  Charley  person!  It  was 
too  terrible! 

How  could  I  warn  him?  Should  I  attempt  to  ex- 
plain the  situation  to  the  competent  Mr.  Pegg  and  the 
muscular  Richard?  That  would  be  impossible  of  ac- 
complishment without  also  precipitating  matters  with 
the  conspirators,  who  would  surely  overhear  me.  As 
I  was  rapidly  revolving  these  thoughts  action  was  vio- 
lently put  upon  me.  The  picture  flashed  "The  End," 
and  the  young  man  whose  life  was  in  danger  rose  to 
leave,  as  did  several  others.  His  seat,  as  I  have  stated, 
was  downstairs,  while  we  occupied  a  box.  Thus  he 
was  far  nearer  the  door  than  were  we.  As  he  rose, 
so  did  the  Frenchmen  in  front  of  me.  In  order  to 
make  their  exit  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  pass  my 


48  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

seat,  which  was  a  step  above  them.  As  they  turned  to 
come  up  I  rose  with  a  little  cry  and  took  the  only  course 
open. 

I  fainted  most  dexterously,  knocking  down  one  of 
them  and  collapsing  upon  the  bosom  of  the  other,  and 
lay  there  in  a  determined  stupor  until,  according  to  my 
calculations,  the  young  man  must  be  quite  well  away. 
The  confusion  was  dreadful  and  it  was  no  pleasant 
matter  fainting  by  intent  upon  the  bosom  of  an  in- 
tended assassin,  but  it  served  to  delay  them  for  all  of 
ten  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time  I  came  to  under 
the  anxious  ministrations  of  my  own  people  and  of 
the  two  foreigners,  whom  Peaches,  an  unconscious 
accessory,  pressed  into  active  service  much  against  their 
will.  And  my  apparent  accident  served  a  double  pur- 
pose, thus  proving  my  dear  father's  maxim  that  virtue 
is  its  own  reward,  for  it  disclosed  the  fact  that  I  had 
made  a  real  impression  upon  the  emotional  side  of 
my  charge. 

"Oh,  Free,  you  dear  old  thing!"  she  was  saying  as 
I  opened  my  eyes.  "Say  you  are  not  hurt!  Dear — 
please  say  you  are  all  right!" 

"I  feel  dreadfully!"  I  murmured  feebly,  looking 
her  right  in  the  eye. 

And  then  I  did  something  which,  having  been  reared 
a  gentlewoman,  I  had  never  anticipated  doing.  I  de- 
liberately winked  at  her.  And  Peaches  took  it  mar- 
velously.  In  a  flash  of  understanding  that  I  had  some 
ulterior  motive  behind  my  behavior  she  maintained 
what  she  calls  her  poker  face  and  winked  back,  and, 
assisting  me  in  what  she  now  knew  to  be  my  pretense, 
helped  me  to  a  cab  and  back  to  the  hotel. 

Needless  to  say,  however,  I  was  not  permitted  to 
sleep  that  night  until  she  had  the  whole  story  from  me. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  49 

She  came  into  my  chamber  with  her  heavy  hair  hang- 
ing over  her  shoulders  in  two  monstrous  braids  of 
molten  gold,  and  swathed  in  an  outrageous  robe  of 
crimson-and-blue  satin  so  that  she  looked  like  a  mag- 
nificent animated  American  flag.  She  curled  up  upon 
the  foot  of  my  bed  and  listened  eagerly. 

"You  wild  Indian!"  she  exclaimed  when  I  had  fin- 
ished the  recital.  "I  just  knew  I'd  have  to  look  after 
you !  And  I'll  keep  a  closer  watch  from  now  on.  Oh 
you  Boston!  California  was  never  like  this." 

In  which  she  was  eminently  correct.  But  when 
she  kissed  me  good  night  I  knew  our  friendship  was 
sealed.  The  wink  had  done  it. 

Next  morning  we  set  out  for  Dover  in  that  terrible 
car,  without  having  heard  or  seen  anything  of  our 
hero.  I  confess  I  had  absurdly  hoped  that  the  hotel 
to  which  the  conspirators  had  referred  might  prove 
to  be  ours,  but  it  was  impossible  to  know  if  or  not 
this  was  the  case,  as,  of  course,  we  had  no  idea  of 
what  his  name  was,  and  he  was  nowhere  about. 

The  newspaper  naturally  contained  no  mention  of 
the  incident  inasmuch  as  it  had  failed  actually  to  oc- 
cur, and  the  press  is,  of  course,  unlikely  to  have  any 
mention  of  a  murder  unless  the  crime  is  consummated. 
And  so  it  appeared  that  the  incident  was  closed.  I 
had  begged  Peaches  not  to  speak  of  its  true  import 
to  either  her  father  or  her  friend  the  chauffeur,  and 
this  she  solemnly  promised. 

"Oh,  but  Free!"  she  exclaimed  rapturously. 
"Wouldn't  it  be  wonderful  if  you  met  again  and  fell 
in  love!" 

"Nonsense !"  said  I.  "Why,  he  was  young  enough 
to  have  been  my  son!  Besides,  I  shall  never  marry!" 

"That's  the  girl !"  said  Peaches.    "They  all  say  that 


50  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

just  before  the  big  event.  So  cheer  up,  who  knows 
their  luck?  Gee,  I  wish  I  could  see  him!" 

And  there  was  surely  something  prophetical  in  her 
speech,  for  Peaches  was  fated  to  see  him,  though  not 
for  many  hours  afterward.  And  then  she  found  him 
for  herself. 

As  I  have  stated,  we  set  forth  in  that  monstrous  car 
for  Dover,  where  we  embarked,  car  and  all,  upon  an 
innocent-appearing  little  boat  for  what  was  promised 
as  a  short  journey.  Possibly  it  was.  I  do  not  remem- 
ber. I  only  know  that  nothing  in  my  previous  nautical 
experience  compared  with  it.  And  when  at  last  we 
landed  and  I  had  to  some  degree  recovered  my  equili- 
brium the  most  startling  incident  occurred.  We  once 
again  were  seated,  Mr.  Pegg,  Peaches  and  myself, 
in  the  car,  ready  to  leave  the  custom  house  behind 
us,  and  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  was  doing  strange 
things  to  the  motor,  when  suddenly  Alicia  seized  me  by 
the  arm. 

"Free!  Oh,  Free!"  she  said  in  an  excited  whisper. 
'There  is  a  man  tall  enough  for  me !" 

I  looked,  and  lo  and  behold,  walking  through  the 
crowd  in  a  leisurely  fashion,  a  smart  piece  of  luggage 
in  either  hand,  was  the  young  man  of  the  motion- 
picture  theater.  At  the  same  moment  I  discerned  the 
two  Frenchmen  whose  plot  I  had  frustrated,  and  on 
the  instant  he  also  caught  sight  of  them,  and  abruptly 
changing  his  course  he  turned  directly  toward  us. 
Richard  got  in  and  started  the  engine. 

"It's  he!"  I  exclaimed  excitedly.  "It's  my  young 
man.  Oh,  the  villains!  They  are  after  him  again! 
Oh,  don't  let  them  get  him !" 

"I  won't."  said  Alicia  promptly. 

The  young  man  was  very  close  now,  palpably,  to  our 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  51 

enlightened  eyes,  endeavoring  to  avoid  the  appearance 
of  flight.  The  two  men  in  pursuit  were  gaining  on 
him  rapidly.  Suddenly  Alicia  beckoned  to  him  and 
called. 

"Here  we  are!"  she  said,  and  flung  open  the  door 
of  the  car  just  as  we  started  to  move.  The  young 
man  sprang  forward,  threw  in  his  bags,  slipped  into 
the  extra  seat,  slammed  the  door,  and  Peaches  touched 
Richard  upon  the  shoulder. 

"Drive  for  your  life!"  she  shouted,  and  the  big 
black  car  shot  down  the  street  just  as  the  two  pursuers 
emerged,  breathless,  from  the  crowd. 


IV 

THE  young  man  whom  Alicia  had  hailed  turned 
toward  her  with  quite  the  nicest  smile  it  had  ever 
been  my  fortune  to  behold,  a  smile  in  which  his  white 
teeth,  which  were  of  a  character  to  do  any  dentist 
credit,  were  the  least  important  factor,  beautiful  as 
they  were.  It  was  the  way  his  face  lighted  up  which 
caught  one.  In  any  situation  that  smile  would  prove 
his  shield  and  buckler.  It  would  have  been  invaluable 
to  a  book  agent,  and  a  missionary  would  have  needed 
no  other  credentials — at  least  certainly  not  on  our  street 
at  home.  We  all  smiled  back  at  him  instinctively, 
though  it  was  to  Alicia  that  he  spoke. 

"It  was  simply  ripping  of  you  people!"  he  said  in 
excellent  English  and  a  delightfully  modulated  voice, 
yet  with  a  curious  intonation,  as  if  it  were  not  his 
native  tongue. 

"Not  at  all!"  replied  Peaches,  her  eyes  holding  his. 
"Glad  to  oblige  you !" 

He  seemed  a  trifle  blank  at  this. 

"I  didn't  expect  you  to  be  here,"  he  went  on.  "But 
I  think  it's  awfully  jolly.  I  suppose  you  motor  a 
great  deal,  Lady  Gordon!" 

"Lady  who?"  gasped  Peaches.  "Gee-whiz!  Who 
do  you  think  we  are?" 

"Great  Scott!"  said  the  inadvertent  guest.  "Aren't 
you  Lord  and  Lady  Gordon?" 

"Lord  and  Lady  me  eye!"  remarked  Peaches.  "We 
are  not!" 

52 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  53 

"Then  why  on  earth  did  you  call  to  me?"  exclaimed 
the  young  man.  "And  who  are  you?" 

Just  then  the  Citrus  King  leaned  forward  and 
shouted  a  query  against  the  wind. 

"Who  is  your  young  man,  Peaches?"  he  said. 
"Make  me  acquainted." 

"I  don't  know  who  he  is!"  snapped  his  daughter. 
"Who  are  you  yourself?"  she  demanded  of  him.  "I 
am  a  low-life  American  bourgeois  in  trade  and  every 
bally  thing — name  of  Alicia  Pegg;  and  this  is  my 
father,  Pinto  Pegg,  the  Citrus  King,  and  this  is  my 
chaperon,  Miss  Talbot,  that  I'm  taking  abroad  to 
educate.  Now  who  are  you?" 

"My  name  is  Sandro  di  Monteventi,"  he  said,  get- 
ting out  a  little  gold  cardcase,  from  which  he  ex- 
tricated a  visiting  card  bearing  a  five-pointed  coronet 
and  the  inscription  Monteventi.  A  duke!  As  I 
glimpsed  the  card,  which  with  proper  breeding  he 
handed  first  to  me,  I  nearly  fainted.  We  must  have 
made  a  mistake  somehow.  Yet  he  was  undoubtedly 
the  young  man  of  the  theater.  I  could  not  have  made 
so  monstrous  an  error.  As  for  Peaches,  when  I  handed 
it  on  to  her  she  simply  gave  a  frank  stare  and  a  long 
whistle. 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,  duke!"  she  said.  "I  guess 
we  may  have  made  a  mistake.  We  thought — well, 
we  thought  you  were  a  friend  of  ours — but  I  don't 
quite  see  how  you  fell  for  it.  Dicky,  turn  round  and 
take  the  gentleman  back!" 

"No,  no!"  said  the  duke  hastily.  "That  is,  you  are 
going  my  way,  so  if  you  don't  mind — my  friends  will 
be  gone  by  now!" 

"Certainly.  Keep  ahead,  Dick !"  said  Pinto  heartily. 
"Pleased  to  have  a  duke  along.  That's  what  we  came 


54.  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

to  Europe  for,  you  know — like  all  vulgar  Americans. 
So  we'll  drop  you  any  place  you  say." 

"That's  really  frightfully  kind,  Mr.  Pegg,"  said  the 
duke.  "You  see,  I  am  expected  to  visit  the  Gordons, 
who  have  rented  a  chateau  at  Deux  Arbes  and  when 
you  called,  Miss  Pegg,  I  thought  they  had  come  to 
meet  me.  We  shall  pass  there  shortly,  and  if  you  will 
just  set  me  down  in  the  village  I  shall  be  all  right 
and  fearfully  grateful." 

"Why,  that's  the  place  where  the  famous  panels  by 
Scarpia  are!"  I  exclaimed.  "They  were  painted  at 
the  order  of  Cardinal  Perigino  in  1754." 

The  duke  looked  at  me  in  some  surprise. 

"Right!"  said  he.  "Do  you  know  the  Gordons, 
by  any  chance?" 

"No,"  I  replied.  "But  I  know  my  Burke's  History 
of  the  Sixteenth  Century  Italian  Painters." 

"Oh!"  said  he.  "How  odd  and  delightful."  And 
he  smiled  again  that  delectable  smile  of  his,  which 
somehow  drew  us  into  a  delicious  intimacy.  His  smile 
seemed  at  once  to  compliment  my  erudition  and  a  thou- 
sand other  lovely  things.  Then  he  turned  again  to 
Peaches  and  looking  at  her  spoke  to  her  father. 

"Where  are  you  bound  for,  sir?"  he  asked. 

"Monte  Carlo  will  be  our  final  camp,"  said  Silas. 
"It's  a  town  I've  always  wanted  to  hit.  I  understand 
it's  got  it  all  over  Hell  River  or  even  Dogtown,  and 
I  used  to  get  a  lot  of  comfort  out  of  them  two  places 
when  I  was  herding  hop  pickers  round  the  head  of  the 
Sacramento  VaUey.  But  I  understand  Monte  has 
them  beaten  three  ways.  It  ought  to,  considering  the 
game  they  named  after  it !" 

I  am  convinced  that  this  statement  was  as  unin- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  55 

telligible  to  the  duke  as  it  was  to  me,  but  he  laughed 
politely. 

"I  may  be  dropping  down  there  a  little  later,"  he 
said.  "In  point  of  fact  my  home  is  not  far  from  it — 
lovely  old  place  back  in  the  hills.  I  was  born  there!" 

"That  so?"  said  Mr.  Pegg.  "Well,  you  do  talk 
English  remarkably  well!" 

"I  was  educated  at  Harvard,"  said  the  duke.  "My 
mother  was  an  American,  the  daughter  of  the  con- 
sul at  San  Remo." 

"I  knew  you  were  a  regular  guy!"  said  Peaches, 
and  then  blushed  furiously.  The  duke  laughed. 

"Thanks!"  said  he.  "But  I  am  an  Italian,  you 
know,  really,  and  I  love  my  country — as  perhaps  few 
men  have!" 

His  eyes  grew  grave  as  he  spoke.  And  after  a 
few  moments  of  curious  silence  that  fell  upon  us 
unwittingly,  he  held  up  his  hand  as  a  signal  to  stop. 

"We  are  coming  into  Deux  Arbres  now,"  he  said. 
"There  is  the  inn,  and  that  trap  looks  as  if  it  would 
take  one  to  the  chateau !  I  am  a  thousand  times  grate- 
ful for  the  lift!" 

The  car  slowed  down  at  Alicia's  command,  and  the 
duke,  despite  our  protests,  insisted  upon  getting  out. 

"We  could  easily  take  you  right  to  the  ranch  house 
— castle,  that  is!"  Peaches  offered. 

"Not  a  bit  more  trouble,  young  man!"  said  Mr. 
Pegg. 

But  the  duke  would  have  no  more  of  us.  Charm- 
ingly, politely  and  firmly  he  shook  us,  as  Alicia  put 
it  afterward.  He  disappeared  within  a  little  hostelry 
and  we  resumed  our  journey.  When  we  had  done  so 
Alicia's  father  subjected  her  to  a  cross  examination 
which  I,  rather  than  she,  deserved,  inasmuch  as  I  had 


56  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

really  been  responsible  for  the  more  or  less  shocking 
performance.  But  Peaches  nobly  refrained  from  in 
any  way  implicating  me. 

"Look  here,  Peaches,  what  made  you  collect  that 
young  swell?"* said  her  parent  in  an  attempt  to  be 
properly  irate. 

"Why,  pa,  I  thought  it  was  Jake  Keeting — you 
know,  Giant  Jake  from  the  B-2  outfit,  and  I  was  so 
surprised  I  yelled  before  I  thought,"  she  lied  with 
alarmingly  casual  promptness. 

"Well,  it's  a  good  thing  I  and  Miss  Talbot  was  along 
to  make  it  look  respectable!"  he  boomed.  "This  isn't 
the  coast,  you  know,  and  people  round  here  have  old- 
fashioned  notions.  But  he  seemed  a  mighty  nice 
young  feller." 

Alicia  glanced  sideways  at  Richard,  the  chauffeur. 

"I  thought  he  was  a  wonder !"  she  said  deliberately. 
And  then  no  more. 

That  night,  in  the  luxurious  bedroom  at  the  Ritz 
in  Paris,  which  was  precisely  like  all  the  other  hotels 
at  which  we  had  stopped  so  far,  Peaches  and  I  dis- 
cussed the  mystery  of  the  Ducca  di  Monteventi  to  our 
heart's  content.  And  in  the  end  we  tacitly  cleared  him 
of  connection  with  the  incident  of  the  London  theater, 
Alicia  insisting  that  I  must  have  been  mistaken  in  my 
identification  of  him,  and  I  determinedly  convinced 
that  he  was  none  other  than  the  hero  of  my  escapade, 
an  opinion  to  which  I  privately  held,  though  I  re- 
frained from  expressing  it  when  I  discovered  that 
she  disliked  the  thought. 

"Say !"  she  remarked.  "I  think  he's  a  prince,  that's 
what.  You  know  what  I  mean — he's  a  duke,  of  course, 
but  I  should  worry  about  that !  I  mean  a  prince  in  the 
American  sense." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  57 

And  curiously  enough  I  understood  her. 

But  fate  removed  the  object  of  our  interest  from 
our  lives  for  many  weeks  to  come.  We  moved  rather 
more  slowly  than  I  had  anticipated,  owing  partially 
to  Alicia's  sudden  interest  in  Parisian  art  galleries. 
We  would  plan  our  trip  for  the  day  within  earshot 
of  her  parent,  and  in  truth  we  did  occasionally  visit 
them  as  we  had  announced.  But  more  frequently 
when  we  said  we  would  go  to  the  Louvre  we  meant 
the  emporium  of  that  title,  and  very  shortly  Peaches' 
wardrobe  began  to  show  the  results  of  my  restraining 
influence. 

She  was  so  beautiful  that  everything  she  put  on 
became  her,  and  so  tall  that  everything  had  to  be 
altered.  And  so  it  came  about  that  we  were  some 
weeks  in  Paris;  very  pleasurable  they  were,  too,  and 
my  knowledge  of  French  came  in  most  serviceably. 
Not  for  nothing  had  I  taken  a  prize  at  Miss  Hich- 
bourne's  Seminary  and  Finishing  School  for  Young 
Gentlewomen  with  an  essay  entitled  Un  Matin  de  Mai, 
for  it  developed  that  I  was  the  only  person  in  our  party 
possessed  of  even  the  rudiments  of  any  foreign  lan- 
guage, and  I  was  constantly  in  demand  as  interpreter, 
requesting  everything  from  un  verre  de  L'eau  glacee 
for  Mr.  Pegg  to  tabac  et  d'allumettes  for  Richard,  the 
chauffeur,  and,  of  course,  in  the  purchasing  of  Peaches' 
clothes  I  was  indispensable. 

Moreover,  out  of  my  princely  emolument  I  felt  it 
but  right  to  purchase  for  myself  sundry  garments  of 
a  more  fashionable  appearance  than  I  had  hitherto 
possessed,  and  to  dispatch  home  by  boat  mail  an  em- 
broidered shawl  for  my  sister  and  some  fine  cambric 
handkerchiefs  together  with  a  pair  of  blue  worsted 


68 IT  FAYS  TO  SMILE 

knitted  slippers  for  Galadia,  which  I  purchased  at 
the  American  Woman's  Exchange. 

I  may  here  remark  in  passing  that  Alicia's  speech 
and  manner  were  becoming  gradually  modified  under 
my  earnest  example  and  tuition,  though  her  fiery 
spirit  and  impulsive  nature  remained  the  same.  Also 
her  conduct  was  impeccable,  for  with  the  exception 
of  bringing  home  a  perfectly  strange  young  American 
sailor — a  common  seaman,  he  was — to  dinner  for  no 
better  reason  than  that  she  had  found  him  sitting  in 
the  Jardin  de  Tuileries  and  he  had  professed  to  be 
homesick,  she  did  nothing  remarkable.  It  is  a  fact 
that  upon  one  occasion  she  was  barely  prevented  from 
using  physical  violence  upon  the  driver  of  a  fiacre, 
who  she  maintained  was  a  dog- faced  son  of  a  muleteer 
and  was  ripe  for  admission  to  the  nether  world,  his 
inevitable  landing  place.  And  all  this  because  he  was 
using  a  whip  with  more  violence  than  discrimination 
upon  his  apathetic  animal.  Her  extraordinary  lan- 
guage was  completely,  and  very  fortunately,  lost  upon 
him,  inasmuch  as  he  understood  no  English,  much  less 
Calif ornian,  and  thought  she  was  merely  trying  to 
protest  at  the  overcharge,  and  being  used  to  that  he 
remained  undisturbed. 

During  our  stay  in  Paris  I  wrote  to  and  received  an 
answer  from  my  Cousin  Abby,  who  in  a  dashing  hand 
announced  that  she  would  be  "charmed  to  see  you, 
dear  old  thing,  as  it's  a  beastly  season,  dull  as  ditch 
water,  and  anything  will  be  a  diversion." 

I  announced  the  fact  of  the  receipt  of  this  letter  but 
kept  its  exact  contents  to  myself,  as  I  rather  feared 
for  our  reception.  Mr.  Pegg,  however,  seemed  to 
consider  the  mere  fact  of  her  reply  an  encouraging 
sign,  and  with  his  customary  abruptness  of  decision 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 59 

gave  orders  that  we  pack  up  at  once  and  proceed  to 
Italy  by  train  instead  of  by  motor  as  we  had  planned, 
thus  expediting  the  matter  of  starting  upon  what  he 
persisted  in  terming  the  "commencement  of  Peaches' 
social  career." 

"Since  your  cousin,  the  countess,  is  at  her  castle,"  he 
informed  me,  "we  will  break  camp  right  now,  Miss 
Talbot,  and  hit  the  trail  for  the  Italian  citrus  country. 
I  am  anxious  to  start  looking  the  lemon  situation  over, 
and  it's  only  fair  to  give  the  Paris  shops  a  chance  to 
restock.  So  to-morrow  we  will  pull  out." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Pegg,"  I  assented.  "Though  it  is 
a  pity  to  miss  the  chateau  country." 

"Not  much  sense  in  looking  at  the  outside  of 
chateaux  if  you  don't  know  the  folks  living  in  them," 
the  Citrus  King  commented.  "And  perhaps  on  the 
way  back  we  will  have  a  few  invites  from  your  cousin's 
friends." 

I  could  only  bite  my  lip  and  refrain  from  going  into 
the  question  further  at  the  moment.  Mr.  Pegg's  social 
and  geographical  ideas  were  at  that  time  in  sad  need 
of  correction.  But  then  correction  made  so  little  im- 
pression on  him.  If  his  mind  was  made  up  to  get  a 
thing  he  would  brush  aside  all  else  until  the  attainment 
of  his  object.  Already  I  was  learning  not  to  dispute 
his  decisions.  Besides,  it  was  conceivable  that  Cousin 
Abby  did  know  some  French  nobility,  or  the  lessees 
of  some,  and  that  if  she  accepted  us  at  all  we  might 
possibly  make  their  acquaintance  in  due  course.  In- 
deed the  circumstances  were  far  less  improbable  than 
so  much  which  had  actually  occurred  during  the  past 
month  that  I  dismissed  the  question  momentarily,  wrote 
Euphemia  a  brief  note  informing  her  of  our  prospec- 
tive change  of  address,  and  then  sought  out  my  charge 


60 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

for  the  purpose  of  imparting  her  father's  instructions. 

At  first  I  experienced  some  difficulty  in  locating  her, 
but  after  a  diligent  search  of  our  sumptuous  suite  I 
at  length  discovered  her  in  the  public  corridor  near 
the  elevator,  where  she  was  engaged  in  explaining  some 
game  of  cards — a  form  of  solitaire — to  the  youth  who 
operated  the  elevator.  They  were  seated  upon  a  bench 
near  the  shaft,  and  the  youth  was  completely  negligent 
of  his  duty.  At  my  approach  Miss  Alicia  looked  up 
and  nodded,  but  continued  her  explanation. 

"The  jack  on  the  queen,"  she  was  saying;  "the  ten 
on  the  jack;  move  'em  over — that  makes  a  dollar  you 
owe  me!" 

"Alicia!"  I  exclaimed.  "Stop  it  at  once !  What  are 
you  doing?" 

"Canfield,"  she  replied  mysteriously.  "Want  to 
take  me  on?"  She  gathered  up  the  cards,  which  I 
then  discovered  to  be  part  of  what  I  may  term  her 
personal  equipment,  being  small  and  easily  contained 
in  that  part  of  her  vanity  case  usually  occupied  by 
rouge  and  lip  stick,  for  which,  thank  heaven,  Alicia 
had  neither  need  nor  desire,  though  perhaps  when  one 
stops  to  consider  the  matter  it  is  somewhat  doubtful 
if  her  substitution  of  a  pack  of  playing  cards  had  a 
greater  moral  value. 

"I  don't  want  to  take  you  on;  I  want  to  take  you 
away!"  I  said.  "Come  back  to  the  apartment  and 
pack.  We  are  to  proceed  to  Monte  Carlo  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"Suffering  cats !"  exclaimed  Peaches.  "No  wonder 
you  don't  want  to  stop  for  any  of  this  piker  stuff. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  elevator  boy,  who  still  lingered, 
seemingly  in  a  state  of  semihypnosis.  "Thanks  for 
the  paper,  captain,"  she  said.  "Keep  that  dollar  you 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  61 

owe  me  for  a  tip!"  And  then  she  slid  her  arm  around 
my  neck  and  strolled  down  the  corridor  with  me,  while 
the  youth,  with  a  parting  grin,  at  length  perceived 
the  buzzing  of  the  indicator,  and  vanished  into  his 
elevator  contraption,  not  having  uttered  a  single  word 
since  my  advent. 

"I  had  him  try  to  find  me  a  San  Francisco  paper," 
Peaches  explained  as  we  returned  to  our  royal  apart- 
ments. "I  get  so  sick  of  these  Frenchy  ones  that  I 
can't  read,  and  of  the  London  ones  that  have  only  news 
which  could  never  have  been  fresh  to  me.  I  wanted 
to  see  a  good  comic  sheet.  Gee!  How  we  used  to 
rush  for  'em  out  on  the  ranch.  When  Bill  Hovey's 
mule  team  came  into  sight  over  Bear  Ridge  Dick 
and  I  used  to  commence  matching  for  who'd  open  the 
bag.  And  generally  we'd  look  at  the  comics  together. 
Don't  you  love  Krazy-Kat?" 

I  shook  my  head  slowly,  more  in  despair  at  her 
simplicity  than  as  the  negative  she  took  the  gesture 
for. 

"Well,  you  wouldn't,  no,  nor  Buster  Brown,  either, 
I  suppose.  But  we  didn't  have  any  volumes  of  Web- 
ster or  any  such  light  stuff  on  the  ranch,  and  had  to 
take  what  we  could  get." 

"You  have  a  newspaper  of  some  sort,  I  see,"  I  re- 
plied, feeling  it  useless  to  explain  that  I  preferred  Byron 
to  Webster,  and  not  feeling  in  the  least  convinced  that 
Peaches  knew  of  the  existence  of  Daniel  as  well  as 
of  Noah.  She  pulled  out  a  copy  of  the  Paris  Herald 
from  under  her  arm. 

"Not  from  the  coast,"  she  said,  "but  at  least  it's 
printed  in  American.  The  boy  was  a  nice  kid.  He 
comes  from  Texas.  He  showed  me  a  peach  of  a  trick, 
and  I  was  showing  him  a  new  Canfield  when  you 


62  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

breezed  in  with  something  really  big.  Hello !  Here's 
something  about  Mr.  Markheim !" 

She  had  been  scanning  the  front  page  of  the  paper 
as  "he  talked,  and  now  she  fell  silent  for  a  moment 
as  she  read. 

"Who  is  Mr.  Markheim?"  I  inquired.  "Not  Se- 
bastian Markheim,  the  great  banker?" 

"Yeah!"  said  Peaches  assentingly.  "But  it's  noth- 
ing much.  He's  bought  another  picture,  that's  all. 
And  paid  the  price  of  a  couple  of  first-class  orange- 
groves  for  it." 

"Why,  Alicia  Pegg!"  I  exclaimed.  "What  an  ex- 
traordinary young  female  you  are!  Sebastian  Mark- 
heim is  one  of  the  greatest  collectors  of  antique  paint- 
ings in  the  world.  He  is  an  authority  on  the  subject. 
How  do  you  come  to  know  him?" 

"He  came  to  know  us!"  she  averred  cheerfully. 
"Bought  a  ranch  near  our  home  outfit,  and  came  over 
to  get  some  pointers  from  pa.  We  see  him  a  lot  when- 
ever he's  in  California." 

"How  amazing!"  I  exclaimed.  "Sebastian  Mark- 
heim, the  great  millionaire!  What  manner  of  man 
is  he,  Alicia?" 

"Oh,  he's  a  widower  of  about  fifty  or  so,"  she  said 
carelessly.  "He's  in  love  with  me." 

"Alicia!"  I  exclaimed.  "Can  you  never  learn  to 
be  more  reticent  about  these — 'these  delicate  personal 
matters  ?" 

"He  isn't  a  bit  delicate !"  she  responded  mildly.  "In 
fact  he's  awfully  rough.  He  hounds  me,  but  I  can 
look  out  for  myself." 

I  felt  the  subject  too  dangerous  to  pursue.  As  my 
dear  father  used  to  say,  most  unpleasant  subjects  thrive 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


on  reproof.     So  I  diverted  her  attention  from  her  im- 
mediate theme. 

"What  picture  did  he  purchase  that  is  worthy  of 
such  comment  ?"  I  inquired. 

"It  is  called  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp  by  some 
bird  named  Raphael,  last  name  not  mentioned,"  re- 
plied the  young  heathen  cheerfully.  "What's  all  this 
about  Monte  Carlo  to-morrow?" 

But  I  had  taken  the  newspaper  from  her. 

"The  Madonna  of  the  Lamp !"  I  exclaimed.  "Why, 
Alicia,  child,  that  is  one  of  the  most  famous  paintings 
in  the  world.  It  was  done  in  Italy,  hundreds  of  years 
ag°>  by  one  of  the  greatest  artists  that  ever  lived.  The 
extraordinary  part  of  such  a  sale  is  that  any  private 
individual  should  own  it.  Its  proper  place  is  a  museum. 
I  am  surprised  it  ever  got  out  of  Italy.  They  have  a 
strict  law  which  prohibits  any  important  works  of  art 
from  being  taken  out  of  the  country,  you  know." 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Alicia.  "But  you'd  think 
they'd  be  glad  to  get  such  a  price  for  a  thing  as  old 
as  that,  wouldn't  you?  Now  if  it  was  an  original  by 
Gibson  or  Christy " 

But  I  did  not  attend  to  the  remainder  of  her  sentence. 
My  eye  had  fallen  upon  another  item  of  even  greater 
importance,  which  had  evidently  escaped  her  atten- 
tion. It  was  small  and  inconspicuously  placed,  but  its 
interest  was  overwhelming.  It  ran  thus.  I  copy  from 
the  original: 

"SCARPIA  PANELS  STOLEN 

"Calais,  March  i5th.  The  commissioner  of  police 
here  was  informed  last  night  that  the  four  famous 
panels  by  Scarpia  had  been  mysteriously  removed  from 
the  chateau  belonging  to  Baron  Richt  at  Deux  Arbres, 


64  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

seventeen  miles  from  this  city.  The  house  has  been 
rented  to  Lord  and  Lady  Ellis  Gordon  for  the  past 
two  years.  The  uttermost  mystery  surrounds  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  four  panels,  which  have  been  one 
of  the  show  features  of  the  place.  How  the  panels 
could  disappear  in  the  brief  interval  between  the  an- 
nouncement of  dinner  and  the  return  of  the  guests  to 
the  drawing-room  is  one  of  the  most  baffling  features 
of  the  case.  The  fact  of  the  theft  was  discovered  by 
one  of  the  house  guests,  the  Ducca  di  Monteventi. 
Every  effort  will  be  made  to  discover  the  criminals,  for 
whose  capture  Lord  Gordon  has  already  offered  a 
large  reward." 

That  was  all,  but  as  Peaches  put  it,  it  was  "an  eye- 
ful." In  other  words,  it  was  sufficient.  Or  almost  so, 
for,  of  course,  our  native  feminine  curiosity  was  enor- 
mously piqued.  We  stared  at  each  other  in  amazement 
for  a  moment,  and  then  Peaches  heaved  a  long  sigh. 

"That  tall  man !"  she  said  cryptically.  "Why,  it  was 
the  place  we  left  him  at ;  the  Gordon  outfit !  It  seems 
like  every  time  we  hear  of  him  he's  mixed  up  in  a 
mystery." 

"It  certainly  does,"  I  assented.  "And  here  we  are 
headed  for  the  Riviera,  while  I  don't  suppose  he  will 
get  away,  now  that  he's  mixed  up  with  that  theft." 

"How  do  you  know  he's  mixed  up  with  it?"  de- 
manded Alicia  with  quite  unnecessary  violence.  "He 
— lie's  a  corker — couldn't  you  tell?  Mixed  up,  my 
eye!" 

"I  meant  as  a  witness  or  in  some  similar  capacity," 
I  protested.  "If  he  were  not  a  duke,  Alicia,  I  should 
be  inclined,  upon  mature  consideration,  to  believe  him 
a  detective." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  65 

"Secret  service?"  she  said  doubtfully.  "Sleuth? 
•Why,  no.  He's  a  swell,  that's  all.  You  mustn't  let 
your  girlish  imagination  run  away  with  you,  Free. 
And  anyhow,  why  worry,  as  we  probably'll  never  see 
him  again?" 

"That  is  probably  too  true,"  I  assented.  Then  I 
consulted  dear  father's  chronometer,  discovered  that 
time  was  pressing,  and  proceeded  to  the  packing  of 
my  bags  and  the  problem  of  getting  into  my  trunk 
some  new  materials  which  I  had  purchased  with  the 
intention  of  having  Miss  Stimpson,  our  local  seam- 
stress, make  them  up  for  me  the  very  minute  we  re- 
turned to  Boston.  I  had  also  a  new  coat  which  Alicia 
had  insisted  upon  presenting  to  me,  and  some  gar- 
ments of  a  more  private  nature  which  I  had  secretly 
purchased  to  gaze  upon  occasionally,  though  I  would 
never  wear  such  unladylike  garments,  for  suppose  there 
were  to  be  a  train  wreck,  how  would  one  explain  that 
a  pink  satin  ah — er — interior  was  not  belying  a  re- 
spectable alpaca  surface,  if  you  divine  my  meaning? 

Well,  *at  any  rate,  I  found  that  my  small  trunk  could 
not  possibly  be  made  to  hold  all  these  new  possessions, 
and  so  packed  a  few  substantial  petticoats  with  hand- 
made crochet  edging  and  my  second-best  dolman  into 
a  paper  parcel,  which  I  addressed  to  Euphemia  and 
having  thus  completed  my  visit  to  the  French  capital 
I  was  ready  to,  as  it  were,  conquer  Italy. 


MY  dear  father  used  justly  to  observe  that  clothes 
made  the  man,  but  that  woman  made  the  clothes.  A 
witticism  of  which  he  was  most  fond,  inasmuch  as 
he  clung  to  the  custom  of  employing  a  tailoress,  which 
was  the  almost  universal  method  of  procuring  outer 
garments  in  his  early  youth.  But  it  is  possible  that 
he  intended  to  imply  that  the  beauty  of  some  females 
was  insurmountable  by  bad  taste  in  dress.  I  hardly 
know  which  interpretation  may  be  correct;  but  I  am 
sure  that  either  Cousin  Abby  was  tremendously  af- 
fected by  her  clothes  or  that  they  were  tremendously 
affected  by  her.  At  any  rate  they  were  as  amazing 
as  she  was,  or  she  as  they,  if  you  comprehend  me.  And 
the  reaction  which  L  experienced  upon  first  beholding 
the  Eiffel  Tower  was  as  nothing  beside  that  incident 
to  my  first  meeting  in  twenty-five  years  with  my  rela- 
tive. 

It  took  place  almost  immediately  after  our  arrival 
at  Monte  Carlo.  Indeed  we  were  scarcely  settled  in 
the  royal  suite  of  the  hotel  before  she  paid  her  visit. 
Mr.  Pegg  and  his  daughter  had  stepped  out  to  undergo 
the  preliminaries  of  obtaining  a  card  to  the  public 
gambling  hell,  and  I,  unwilling  to  countenance  their 
project,  had  remained  behind  ostensibly  to  supervise 
Richard,  the  chauffeur,  in  the  disposal  of  our  things, 
and  so  was  alone  when  the  countess  was  announced. 

The  Richard  person  admitted  her  and  came  in 
whistling  under  his  breath  as  he  gave  me  her  card. 

66 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  67 

"Oh,  you  beautiful  doll!"  he  sang  sotto  voce  as 
he  did  so. 

I  flew  to  the  mirror,  gave  my  hair  a  pat,  and  assum- 
ing a  dignified  deportment  entered  the  drawing-room. 
It  was  empty  save  for  a  young  girl,  very  much  over- 
dressed, who  was  standing  with  her  back  toward  me, 
looking  out  of  the  window.  At  sound  of  my  en- 
trance she  turned  and  pounced  upon  me  with  a  shriek 
of  delight. 

"Freedom  Talbot,  old  thing!"  she  exclaimed.  "How 
glad  I  am  to  see  you!" 

And  sure  enough,  that  young  girl  was  Cousin  Ab- 
by!  How  true  it  is  that  the  troubles  we  experience 
are  seldom  those  we  expect!  I  had  been  living  in 
dread  lest  my  titled  relative  should  not  prove  hos- 
pitably inclined,  and  here  she  was  already,  upon  the 
very  first  day  of  our  arrival,  greeting  me  literally  with 
open  arms.  So  much  for  the  trouble  I  anticipated — it 
was  gone  like  a  wreath  of  smoke!  But  as  I  took  a 
good  look  at  her  an  entirely  unforeseen  difficulty  be- 
gan to  force  itself  upon  me.  That  Cousin  Abby  was 
willing  to  receive  us  was  apparent,  but  were  we  going 
to  return  the  compliment  ?  For  Abby  had  changed  far 
more  than  I  had. 

When  she  left  Boston  twenty-five  years  ago  Abby 
Talbot  had  been  considerably  older  than  I.  But  upon 
renewing  her  acquaintance  as  described  I  found  her  to 
be  at  least  twenty  years  my  junior.  Not  literally,  you 
will  understand,  by  some  miracle  of  arrested  growth 
or  phenomenon  in  the  actual  defeat  of  time,  but  by 
sundry  artificial  aids  such  as  were  never  countenanced 
by  my  dear  father  and  mother,  or  indeed  by  Euphemia 
or  myself,  all  such  so-called  aids  to  beauty  being  un- 
known to  the  gentlewomen  of  our  acquaintance  and 


68  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

recognized  only  upon  the  persons  of  outcast  females 
and  constituting  the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  in- 
ward and  spiritual  disgrace.  Of  course  it  must  be 
admitted  that  some  of  even  Boston's  very  best  people, 
particularly  in  the  younger  generation,  where  it  was 
palpably  unnecessary,  resorted  to  these  artifices,  and 
I  had  several  times  been  shocked  at  large  receptions 
by  observing  this  fact.  But  that  a  member  of  our 
family  should  stoop  to  such  a  course  was  incredible ;  or 
would  have  been  except  that  I  was  at  that  moment  be- 
holding it  with  my  own  eyes. 

Abby's  hair  was  golden,  and  her  cheeks  were  pink 
as  Peaches'  own.  Her  lips!  Gracious  goodness!  I 
trembled  for  her  immortal  soul  as  I  beheld  them !  And 
sinful-looking  diamonds  dangled  from  her  ears  almost 
to  her  shoulders.  The  hat  she  wore  might  better  have 
been  fashioned  for  a  maid  of  sixteen,  and  her  short 
gown  swung  above  a  pair  of  slim  silken  ankles  and 
slippers  with  glittering  buckles  and  outrageous  heels. 

But  though  I  struggled  to  experience  the  disapproval 
which  I  knew  to  be  the  proper  reaction  to  these  bedizen- 
ments  I  could  not  but  admire  the  brave  spirit  they  also 
undoubtedly  represented.  There  was  that  about  Abby 
which  gave  one  the  belief  that  one  need  not  grow  old 
except  through  lack  of  the  desire  for  youth.  She 
seemed  to  stand  there  before  me  with  the  spirit  of 
her  unconquerable  youth  radiating,  as  it  were,  through 
the  painted  shell  she  had  put  upon  her  body.  I  at 
once,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  seriously  con- 
templated abandoning  my  curled  fringe.  All  this  which 
I  have  recorded  passed  through  my  mind  in  a  flash — 
while  she  was  embracing  me,  to  be  exact.  Then  she 
withdrew  her  perfumed  person  a  few  inches  and 
laughed  like  a  girl ! 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  69 

"Free,  you  duckie!"  she  cried.  "You  haven't 
changed  a  bit.  It's  fearfully  amusing,  your  coming 
over.  And  to  this  iniquitous  spot !  How  is  poor  dear 
Boston?  I  feel  a  million  aeons  away  from  it!  And 
how  is  Cousin  Euphemia?  And  the  dog — what  was 
his  name;  Rex? — that  she  used  to  fuss  over  so  when 
he  got  his  feet  wet,  do  you  remember?" 

She  meant  that  she  was  trying  to  remember. 

"Rex  has  departed  this  life,"  I  replied,  "on  the 
initiative  of  a  very  rude  and  heartless  dog  catcher 
with  a  barred  wagon.  Euphemia  is  well  except  for 
her  rheumatism  and  asthma  and  indigestion;  or  was 
when  I  left  home." 

"Doesn't  she  write?"  asked  Abby  quickly. 

"She  was  exceedingly  disapproving  of  my  enterprise 
and  has  not  written,"  said  I.  "But  I  had  somewhat 
anticipated  the  circumstance  and  am  not  unduly  wor- 
ried. The  maid,  Galadia,  is  to  inform  me  should  any- 
thing go  wrong." 

Abby  laughed  again.  It  certainly  was  a  pleasant 
thing  to  hear. 

"Tell  me  everything!"  she  exclaimed,  drawing  two 
chairs  close  together.  "What  on  earth  made  you  do 
it,  you  rebel  ?  And  who  are  these  Peggs  you  are  with  ?" 

It  was  delightfully  gossipy.  I  sat  down  beside  her 
and  soon  explained  my  action,  in  reply  to  her  first 
question.  But  when  I  came  to  enlarging  upon  the 
second,  I  found  myself,  most  unexpectedly,  at  a  loss. 
What  was  my  relationship  to  them  anyhow?  It 
was  like  trying  to  analyze  one's  relationship  to  the 
sunlight.  And  yet,  had  I  merely  seen  them  without 
knowing  them,  I  should  have  unquestionably  character- 
ized them  as  impossibly  vulgar;  that  was  the  plain 
truth  of  the  matter.  To  Abby  they  must  inevitably 


70  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

seem  so  at  first  glance.  And  knowing  this  I  instinc- 
tively rose  to  their  defense.  I  discovered  within  my- 
self a  sudden  warm  glow  of  affection  and  appreciation 
which  was  so  normal  and  com  f  of  table  in  its  character 
that  I  had  positively  been  unaware  of  its  existence  until 
criticism  threatened  them.  I  spoke  slowly  and  delib- 
erately, choosing  my  words  with  care. 

"The  Peggs  are  Americans,"  said  I,  "from  Cali- 
fornia. And  their  hearts  are  as  big  as  their — er — 
oranges." 

"From  which  I  gather  they  are  millionaires  and  vul- 
gar," said  Abby  shrewdly — "but  that  you  like  them." 

"I  do  indeed!"  said  I,  though  how  she  deduced  so 
much  from  my  remark  I  cannot  imagine. 

"And  it  is  equally  evident,"  Abby  went  on,  "that 
I,  your  titled  cousin,  am  to  be  induced  by  hook  or 
crook  to  introduce  them  to  an  assortment  of  foreign 
titles.  That's  so,  isn't  it?  And  you  are  in  an  agony 
of  embarrassed  bewilderment  about  how  to  broach  the 
subject  ?" 

"Abby!"  I  gasped.     "How  can  you!" 

"My  dear,  I  have  to!"  she  cut  in,  laughing  again, 
though  not  so  pleasantly  this  time.  "My  wits  are 
about  all  I  have  with  which  to  make  good  my  bridge 
losses !  I  suppose  you  know  Constantine  left  me  noth- 
ing but  the  villa?" 

"What!"  I  exclaimed,  really  aghast.  "I  was  not 
even  aware  of  your  husband's  demise!" 

"Polo  accident,"  she  said  briefly.    "Five  years  ago." 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said  softly. 

"Well,"  said  Abby,  "never  mind  that!  So  you 
see  you  need  have  no  reticence  about  offering  me  money. 
I  can  earn  it,  I  assure  you." 

Of  course  this  was  astonishing,  but  at  the  same  time 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  71 

it  really  was  an  immense  relief.  For  I  knew  dear 
Mr.  Pegg  never  hesitated  to  pay  a  proper  price  for 
the  genuine  article,  as  he  himself  was  wont  to  put  it. 
And  I  had  in  truth  been  most  anxious  as  to  how  I 
should  approach  my  distinguished  relative  upon  so  deli- 
cate a  matter  as  remuneration  for  the  peculiar  services 
which  we  required.  And  so,  though  in  a  sense  I  was 
shocked  by  her  frankness,  it  made  my  path  far 
easier,  particularly  since  her  own  lack  of  delicacy  in 
the  matter  warranted  a  larger  degree  of  out-spoken- 
ness  upon  my  part.  And  I  had  something  important 
to  say.  Her  opening  gave  me  an  opportunity  not 
likely  of  renewal,  and  so  I  at  once  rushed  into  the 
breach.  | 

"My  dear,  I  grieve  for  your  loss,"  said  I ;  "and  for 
the  unfortunate  condition  of  your  widowhood.  And 
it  is  a  most  happy  circumstance  that  we  can  be  of 
benefit  to  each  other  at  this  time.  Mr.  Pegg  intends 
to  offer  you  a  thousand  dollars  each  for  introductions 
to  titles.  And  a  bonus,  I  think  he  called  it,  of  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  for — er — I  believe  he  termed  it  'working 
capital.'  " 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Abby.  "Now  go  ahead  and 
tell  me  the  buts." 

"The  buts"  ?  I  queried.  "Do  you  infer  that  there  are 
restrictions  to  Mr.  Pegg's  offer?" 

"By  the  gleam  in  your  eye  I  know  there  are !"  Abby 
affirmed. 

"Well,"  I  admitted,  "Mr.  Pegg  has  not  expressed 
his  desire  that  there  be  any;  but  I  have  one  of  my 
own." 

Abby  gave  me  a  most  peculiar  look  at  this,  her  eyes 
narrowing  and  her  lips  curling  in  a  distinctly  un- 


72  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

pleasant  smile.  It  filled  me  with  an  acute,  though  un- 
defined, sense  of  discomfort. 

"Very  well,"  she  said  quietly.  "How  much  do 
you  want?" 

"What?"  I  asked. 

"What  commission  do  you  want?"  said  she,  speak- 
ing very  distinctly.  I  felt  as  though  someone  had 
struck  me  with  a  whip.  Instinctively  I  got  to  my  feet. 

"Abby!"  I  exclaimed  in  horror.  "A  bribe!  How 
could  you?  ATalbot!" 

To  my  amazement  and  further  distress  she  stared 
at  me  for  a  long  moment  and  then  burst  into  tears. 

"Forgive  me,  Cousin  Free!"  she  sobbed.  "For- 
give me,  if  you  can — please!  One  gets  so  hard,  so 
used  to  things  like  that  out  here!  I  ought  to  have 
known  better!  Please  say  you  understand!" 

She  was  not  like  a  little  girl  any  longer.  There  was 
something  behind  the  tone  in  which  she  spoke  which 
frightened  me;  something  terrible  and  sinister  and 
cruel — something  which  could  break  even  a  Talbot ! 
I  perceived  its  nature  though  its  substance  was  beyond 
my  experience,  and  at  once  the  instinct  to  rescue  and 
help  her  was  uppermost  in  my  mind.  I  fussed  over 
her  much  as  I  used  to  fuss  over  Rex,  our  pet,  when 
anything  ailed  him,  for  he  had  been  my  dog;  not  Eu- 
phemia's,  as  Abby  had  supposed.  And  presently  she 
grew  quieter,  though  she  still  held  on  to  my  hand.  But 
though  I  felt  sorry  for  Abby  and  was  determined  to 
be  of  assistance  to  her  I  did  not  let  the  most  unfor- 
tunate incident  divert  me  from  what  had  originally 
been  in  my  mind  to  say  when  she  made  her  terrible 
mistake. 

"Now,  my  dear,  I  will  forgive  you,"  said  I.  "But 
please  brace  up  and  allow  me  to  state  my  condition, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  73 

which  is  simply  this :  The  young  lady,  Miss  Alicia 
Pegg,  must  be  most  carefully  guarded  from  fortune 
hunters  and  all  questionable  company.  You  must 
guarantee  to  me  that  you  will  introduce  her  to  no  one 
who  can  harm  her.  Her  father  has  a  faith  in  her 
ability  to  take  care  of  herself  which  is  founded  in  his 
knowledge  of  her  singularly  beautiful  nature,  but  he 
is  almost  as  unworldly  in  our  sense  as  she  is.  I  sim- 
ply v/on't  have  any  scallawags  hanging  round  her.  Her 
father  trusts  me  to  look  out  for  her  welfare,  and  I 
mean  to  see  that  his  trust  is  justified." 

"You  seem  pretty  deep  in  his  confidence,"  Abby  re- 
marked. "He  is  a  widower,  you  said?" 

"He  is,"  I  replied,  though  I  did  not  see  what  that 
had  to  do  with  the  subject.  "And  Alicia's  motherless 
condition  places  a  great  responsibility  upon  me.  So 
you  must  promise  what  I  have  asked,  Abby,  and  keep 
the  promise  faithfully." 

"All  right,  old  dear!"  she  answered,  her  self-pos- 
session rapidly  returning.  "And  it  won't  be  hard,  for 
I  know  an  awfully  decent  set,  really.  I'll  have  you  all 
out  to  dine  this  very  week.  I'm  at  San  Remo,  you 
know.  Just  a  short  motor  drive  from  here;  a  duck 
of  a  house  opposite  the  old  German  Emperor's  place. 
How  about  Saturday?  That  ought  to  give  me  time 
to  collect  the  proper  people." 

"That  will  be  lovely,  Abby!"  said  I.  "Mr.  Pegg 
will  be  delighted,  I  am  sure."  Then  a  sudden  won- 
derment struck  me. 

"Don't  you  ever  wish  you  were  back  in  the  security 
of  your  life  in  Boston?"  I  asked  curiously. 

"Not  when  I'm  sane!"  she  replied  lightly.  "Do 
you?" 


74 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

This  was  both  unexpected  and  disconcerting.  But 
I  strove  to  be  honest  in  my  reply. 

"No,"  I  said;  "I  cannot  truthfully  say  that  I  do." 

And  long  after  she  had  taken  her  departure,  buoyant 
and  apparently  light-hearted  once  more,  I  pondered 
my  reply.  But  I  found  no  explanation  for  my  change 
of  heart.  Never,  no,  never,  did  I  expect  to  utter  such 
a  sentiment,  much  less  to  have  felt  it!  But  the  harsh 
fact  was  that  I  had  somehow  become  estranged  from 
my  native  city  and  the  human  element  which  repre- 
sented it,  and  did  in  truth  already  prefer  the  Riviera. 

In  point  of  fact  it  appeared  to  me  to  be  the  most 
beautiful  place  of  which  the  mind  could  conceive,  de- 
spite that  I  was  rather  surprised  to  find  the  chief 
foliage  to  be  cedar  and  other  evergreens,  and  that  the 
whole  effect  was  less  tropical  than  I  had  imagined. 
Also  I  had  expected  that  the  natives  would  be  rather 
more  like  those  in  a  production  of  Cavalleria  Rusticana, 
to  which  my  dear  father  had  once  escorted  Euphemia 
and  myself  upon  the  occasion  of  her  birthday ;  and  even 
after  several  weeks  of  continuous  residence  in  Monte 
Carlo  I  was  unable  to  be  rid  of  a  feeling  that  the 
management,  or  rather  government,  was  somehow  to 
blame  for  not  making  the  reality  more  like  the  opera. 

But  oh,  how  beautiful  it  was!  I  was  unstinting  in 
my  praise.  Not  so  Mr.  Pegg  and  Alicia,  however. 

"Pretty  good!"  was  Alicia's  comment.  "But  you 
ought  to  see  California.  They'd  better  bring  over 
some  of  our  poppies  to  liven  up  the  hills." 

"It's  real  pretty,"  her  father  admitted,  "but  awful 
small.  It's  something  like  a  pocket  edition,  as  you 
might  say,  Miss  Free." 

"I  scarcely  believe  that  anything  could  be  more 
lovely,"  I  declared. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  75 

"Well,  of  course  you  haven't  been  West  yet,"  said 
Peaches  cheerfully.  "Then  you'll  see  the  real  thing!" 

"I  shall  never  become  a  Californian,  my  dear,"  I 
put  in  mildly.  "Do  you  know,  sometimes  I  fear  you 
tend  to  exaggerate  in  describing  your  native  State?" 

"Well,  we  produce  the  biggest  crops  in  the  world," 
she  declared.  "So  why  not  the  biggest  liars,  as  well? 
Wait  until  you've  been  out  on  the  coast  yourself!" 

And  never  to  this  day  have  I  clearly  understood 
what  she  meant  by  that.  A  great  deal  that  Alicia  said 
was  difficult  to  understand.  And  nothing  was  more 
so  than  this  insistence  on  her  part  that  anything  Cali- 
fornian was  superior  to  everything  European.  After 
our  visit  to  the  Villa  d'Este  I  gave  up.  She  looked  it 
over  pleasantly  and  gave  her  verdict. 

"I  guess  they  copied  it  from  the  Gillespie  place  at 
Santa  Barbara,"  she  said;  "only,  of  course,  these  hills 
are  nothing  as  compared  to  the  Coast  Range  for 
height." 

It  was  just  after  this  that  I  abandoned  all  effort 
to  force  a  course  in  architecture,  or  indeed  in  any  of 
the  arts,  upon  Peaches.  I  began  dimly  to  perceive 
that  it  was  not  only  useless  but  that  her  education  was 
not  really  impaired  by  the  secession  of  my  efforts  along 
these  lines.  She  possessed  a  faculty  for  picking  out 
what  she  wanted  to  learn  and  learning  it  thoroughly. 
And  after  all  that  is  the  truest  education,  as  my  dear 
father  used  to  say. 

But  I  digress.  Let  us  take  up  our  sequence  where 
Abby  left  me  on  that  first  afternoon. 

Scarcely  had  she  departed,  driving  off  in  a  smart 
little  red  automobile  of  the  type  which  I  had  learned 
to  distinguish  as  a  roadster,  as  I  observed  from  the 
window,  and  which  gave  no  clew  to  the  newly  disclosed 


76  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

fact  of  her  poverty — scarcely  had  she  departed  and  I 
had  partially  mastered  the  emotions  which  her  ex- 
traordinary visit  had  engendered  in  my  bosom  when 
Alicia  and  her  father  returned. 

They  had  been  out,  as  I  believe  I  have  mentioned, 
for  the  purpose  of  procuring  cards  of  admission  to  the 
public  gambling  hell.  They  had  also  got  cards  for  a 
place  called  the  casino,  one  of  which  was  offered  to 
me.  I  accepted  it  with  gratitude,  for  at  home  there 
was  a  casino  out  at  Duxbury  where  we  spent  our 
summers;  a  very  charming  place  it  was,  too,  with  a 
fine  view  of  the  ocean  from  the  veranda,  and  a  dance 
for  the  young  people  every  Saturday  night,  and  I  had 
greatly  enjoyed  taking  my  knitting  there.  I  was  at 
present  secretly  at  work  upon  a  pair  of  socks  for  Mr. 
Pegg,  intended  as  a  small  appreciation  of  all  he  had 
done  for  me,  and  I  felt  sure  that  this  casino  would 
be  an  excellent  place  in  which  to  complete  them,  par- 
ticularly when  Mr.  Pegg  and  his  daughter  were  away 
gambling.  I  had,  needless  to  say,  protested  against 
their  avowed  intentions  in  this  matter,  but  to  no  avail. 

"Why,  Miss  Talbot,  of  course  you  object!"  Mr. 
Pegg  had  said,  kindly  but  firmly.  "Objecting  to  this 
sort  of  thing  is  part  of  your  job.  If  you  didn't  object 
you  wouldn't  be  the  woman  I  hired  you  for.  But  this 
is  one  time  you're  not  wise — you  don't  get  it  at  all. 
This  gambling  joint  is  strictly  high  class.  The  lay- 
outs at  Dogtown  have  nothing  on  it — absolutely!  To 
lose  a  little  something  at  Monte  is  like  losing  a  little 
at  monte  with  a  small  'm'  over  to  Dogtown ;  and  allow 
me  to  inform  you  that  no  California  native  son's  edu- 
cation is  completely  polished  off  without  that  experi- 
ence. Only  over  here  is  where  the  crowned  heads  get 
trimmed — I  mean  polished.  And  I  propose  to  have 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  77 

my  daughter  visit  that  historic  spot  so's  she  can  talk 
intelligently  about  it  at  big  dinner  parties." 

;Well,  when  Mr.  Pegg  assumed  that  tone  I  knew  that 
further  argument  was  useless.  Besides,  Peaches  her- 
self was  very  much  set  on  going,  and  all  that  was  left 
me  was  the  manifestation  of  my  unalterable  disap- 
proval by  steadfastly  refusing  to  accompany  them  or 
to  discuss  their  experiences  in  that  den  of  iniquity. 
Even  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  was  infected  with  the 
dreadful  spirit  of  the  place,  though  I  ascertained  that 
the  vicious  resort  which  he  attended  was  of  a  less  pre- 
tentious order. 

There  was  considerable  coolness  between  us  that 
evening  because  of  my  attitude,  and  when  Peaches 
and  her  father  had  departed  upon  their  nefarious  er- 
rand I  read  my  Bible  and  went  to  bed  greatly  fortified. 
This  coolness  lasted  into  the  next  day,  despite  the 
arrival  during  breakfast  of  Abby's  invitation  to  din- 
ner, at  which  Mr.  Pegg  and  Alicia  both  evinced  great 
satisfaction.  I  hoped  to  divert  them  into  a  visit  to 
the  churches,  but  all  in  vain.  Mr.  Pegg  had  lost  sev- 
eral hundred  dollars,  it  seemed,  and  both  he  and  his 
daughter  evinced  a  strong  wish,  as  they  expressed  it, 
"to  show  these  wop  gamblers  where  they  got  off." 

The  result  was  that  after  luncheon  they  again  left 
me  to  my  own  devices  after  a  second  fruitless  attempt 
at  persuading  me  to  accompany  them,  and  when  they 
had  been  gone  for  half  an  hour  I  decided  to  take  my 
knitting  to  that  casino  for  which  they  had  given  me 
a  card. 

The  afternoon  was  exceptionally  mild  and  fine,  even 
for  that  part  of  the  world,  and  I  anticipated  spending 
it  out  of  doors.  I  therefore  put  on  a  shade  hat  and 
a  light  wrap,  packed  my  fancywork  into  my  knitting 


78  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

bag  and  making  sure  that  my  working  specs  were  in 
my  reticule  I  set  forth  into  the  mildly  sunlit  avenue. 

I  had  no  difficulty  at  all  in  locating  my  destination. 
Indeed  the  very  first  native  boy  of  whom  I  made  in- 
quiry directed  me  volubly.  I  thanked  him  and  passed 
on  in  the  direction  which  he  indicated.  But  when  I 
reached  the  spot  I  confess  I  was  astounded  and  felt 
obliged  to  confirm  the  building's  identity  by  a  second 
inquiry. 

It  was  far,  far  larger  than  the  casino  at  Duxbury. 
Indeed  it  looked  rather  more  like  one  or  rather  sev- 
eral of  the  houses  which  the  nouveau  riche  have  erected 
at  Newport.  But  this  was  not  altogether  surprising 
when  one  realized  that  the  number  of  tourists  was 
undoubtedly  far  greater  than  on  the  Massachusetts 
coast.  And  as  I  approached  I  noted  that  a  large  num- 
ber of  cars  were  waiting  outside.  It  seemed  probable 
that  this  indicated  a  hostess  day,  or  possibly  even  a 
private  euchre  party ;  so  I  decided  against  going  in, 
and  entered  the  gardens  instead. 

These  were  amazingly  beautiful  and  extensive,  with 
winding  paths  and  pleasant  seats.  Here  at  least  I  could 
not  complain  of  any  lack  of  luxuriance  in  the  semi- 
tropical  growth,  and  selecting  a  sheltered  bench  that 
was  shielded  from  the  light  breeze  by  a  mass  of  camel- 
lias in  full  bloom  I  settled  myself  for  a  pleasing  period 
of  rest  and  observation.  Very  few  people  were  about, 
and  a  lovely  peace  reigned  over  all. 

First  I  took  out  the  finished  sock  and  regarded  it 
critically  in  the  strong  light.  It  was  really  well  made 
if  I  do  say  so  myself,  and  tasteful,  too.  The  sock 
itself  was  black,  but  round  the  top  the  purling  was 
in  alternate  stripes  of  black  and  red;  an  effort  on  my 
part  at  once  to  meet  Mr.  Pegg's  taste  for  the  exotic 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  79 

in  dress  and  at  the  same  time  offer  a  conservative  sur- 
face in  that  part  which  would  be  exposed  to  the  gen- 
eral public.  Having  then  satisfied  myself  that  my 
work  was  as  my  mother  would  have  desired,  I  counted 
the  setting-up  stitches  anew  to  make  certain  of  their 
number,  and  began  the  second  sock,  my  heart  content 
at  thought  of  the  pleasant  surprise  my  gift  would  be. 
I  had  completed  the  top  line  of  red  and  the  first  line 
of  black  and  had  just  begun  on  the  second  line  of  red 
when  I  observed  the  most  dreadful  thing. 

I  think  I  have  mentioned  that  my  seat  was  sheltered 
by  a  semicircular  bed  of  evergreen  bordered  by  tall 
camellias,  and  was  situated  in  a  remote  corner  of  the 
gardens.  The  band  on  the  plaza  was  playing  a  gay 
tune  and  the  atmosphere  was  pleasantly  exhilarating. 
And  so  I  was  not  paying  very  diligent  attention  to 
my  work.  Indeed  my  eyes  were  ever  prone  to  rove 
from  my  knitting,  a  fact  for  which  Euphemia  has  often 
chided  me,  though  I  do  quite  as  well  without  watching 
my  stitches,  the  occupation  having  become  second  na- 
ture with  me.  Therefore  it  was  by  no  means  un- 
precedented that  I  should  be  contemplating  the  beau- 
tiful shrubs  at  my  right,  while  nodding  my  head  to 
the  music  of  the  distant  band,  though  my  hands  were 
busily  engaged. 

At  first  I  thought  my  vision  must  be  at  fault,  for 
something  stirred  just  the  other  side  of  the  bushes, 
and  a  hand  containing  a  revolver  was  slowly  lifted, 
the  index  finger  upon  the  trigger. 

For  the  first  second  I  felt  as  if  I  were  stricken  by 
paralysis,  and  the  next  I  had  sprung  to  my  feet  and 
rounded  the  corner  to  where  the  hand  was. 

"Stop  it  at  once!"  I  shouted  instinctively,  though 
it  is  a  fact  that  I  hardly  knew  what  was  to  be  stopped. 


80  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

And  my  command  was  obeyed.  The  man  who  stood 
there  actually  did  stop,  though  why  in  the  moment  of 
his  surprise  that  dreadful  pistol  did  not  go  off  I  can- 
not understand.  But  the  hand  containing  it  dropped  to 
his  side,  and  for  several  seconds  we  stood  staring  at 
each  other,  he  with  the  pallid  daze  of  one  who  has 
been  halted  on  the  brink  of  destruction,  and  I  with  the 
trembling  indignation  of  a  respectable  female  with  a 
most  un feminine  situation  suddenly  thrust  upon  her. 

He  was  a  tall  thin  man,  no  longer  young,  and  dressed 
in  the  extreme  of  fashion  save  for  a  large  rabbit's  foot 
that  dangled  incongruously  from  his  watch  chain.  His 
eyes  were  large  and  dark  and  overbrilliant,  and  his 
disheveled  head  was  hatless. 

"What  were  you  doing?"  I  asked  severely,  though 
I  knew  perfectly  well.  "Don't  you  know  that  it's  a 
sin?"  I  went  on  before  he  could  answer. 

"Who  are  you?"  the  man  asked  in  English,  his 
voice  hoarse  and  remote.  "Go  away  and  allow  me 
to  kill  myself!" 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  I  replied  tartly.  "You  put 
that — «that  weapon  into  your  pocket  this  minute !  Don't 
you  know  you  are  apt  to  cause  us  both  to  be  arrested 
if  a  police  officer  should  come  this  way?" 

Mechanically  he  obeyed,  slipping  the  dreadful  thing 
into  his  coat  pocket,  and  continuing  to  stare  at  me 
in  that  helpless,  dazed  fashion. 

"Now  come  and  sit  down  beside  me  on  this  bench!" 
I  commanded,  gathering  my  worsteds  out  of  his  way. 
He  obeyed  like  a  person  in  a  trance.  "There  now!" 
said  I.  "You  poor  man,  you  are  all  upset!  Wait  a 
minute  and  I'll  give  you  just  what  you  need." 

Fortunately  it  is  my  habit  always  to  carry  a  dose 
of  aromatic  spirits  of  ammonia  in  my  reticule  in  case 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  81 

of  emergency,  and  at  length  an  emergency  had  arisen. 
Hastily  retrieving  the  little  phial  from  its  hiding  place 
I  uncorked  it  and  offered  it  to  my  strange  companion. 

"Here — drink  this  quickly!"  I  commanded. 

He  took  it  and  gave  a  hurried  look  about  to  see  if 
anyone  observed.  There  was  nobody  in  sight. 

"You  are  right,  it  is  less  noisy !"  he  whispered.  And 
with  a  single  gulp  he  drained  the  phial  and  returned  it 
to  me. 

"How  long  does  it  take  to  work?"  he  whispered 
feebly,  relaxing  upon  the  bench. 

"Just  a  moment,"  I  said  soothingly.  "There! 
Don't  you  feel  better  already?" 

"I  do,  strangely  enough!"  he  replied,  straightening 
up.  "What  kind  of  poison  is  it?" 

"It's  aromatic  ammonia,"  I  said  briskly,  "and  it 
won't  poison  you  in  the  least.  Never  have  I  met 
such  a  silly  person  as  you  are!" 

"Baffled  again!"  he  groaned,  burying  his  face  in  his 
hands.  "Oh,  how  much  better  I  feel !  What  a  shame! 
Why  could  you  not  let  me  die?" 

"Because  it  is  the  business  of  sensible  women  to 
take  care  of  foolish  men!"  I  returned.  "Sit  up  now 
and  tell  me  all  about  it.  Was  it  love?" 

He  obeyed  and  stared  at  me  in  that  silly  blank  way 
of  his. 

"Love?"  he  said.  "'Worse  than  that.  Money.  I 
have  one  hundred  napoleons  left  in  the  world.  I  de- 
cided there  were  only  two  courses  open  to  me.  Either 
I  must  get  a  sign,  an  infallible  sign  how  to  play,  or 
shoot  myself.  I  decided  to  wait  until  two  o'clock  and 
if  the  sign  had  not  manifested  itself  I  would  end  my 
life.  It  was  exactly  three  seconds  to  two  o'clock  when 
you  spoke!" 


82  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

He  groaned  and  dropped  his  head  again. 

"Well,"  said  I  as  placidly  as  I  could,  "perhaps  I 
am  the  sign  you  were  looking  for.  Who  knows? 
See  here  now,  I  am  going  on  knitting,  and  suppose  you 
watch  the  stitches  for  a  few  moments.  It's  excellent 
for  the  nerves.  That's  it.  You'll  have  yourself  well 
in  hand  presently." 

And  indeed  even  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  my  fancy- 
work  he  seemed  to  take  a  new  lease  of  life.  Gradually 
he  became  animated.  Color  returned  to  his  pallid 
cheeks  and  a  new,  though  I  cannot  say  a  saner  light, 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"The  sign!"  he  muttered.  "Perhaps  it  is  the  sign!" 
This  cryptic  remark  seemed  to  be  addressed  to  him- 
self. Then  suddenly — he  did  everything  suddenly — 
he  spoke  directly  to  me.  "Red  and  black!"  he  said, 
fingering  the  wool  on  which  I  was  at  work.  "Red  and 
black.  How  many  stitches  do  you  take  of  the  red, 
strange  woman?" 

"Ten,"  I  said,  "and  then  ten  of  black  and  then  ten 
on  the  red !" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  sudden  strange  convic- 
tion in  his  manner. 

"Twenty  on  the  red!  Ten  on  the  black!"  said  he, 
"It's  a  sign.  It  may  be,  it  must  be  a  sign!  I'm  off!" 

He  tossed  the  sock  back  to  me  with  a  gay  gesture 
and  started  away.  But  I  was  too  quick  for  him.  I 
caught  him  by  the  coat  tails  before  he  had  gone  twelve 
inches. 

"Hey,  my  good  man!"  said  I.  "I'll  just  thank  you 
to  hand  over  that  pistol  before  you  go !" 

"All  right,  you  can  have  it!"  he  exclaimed  lightly. 
"There  you  are.  Don't  do  anything  rash  with  it.  I 
may  need  it  later!" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


He  slipped  the  weapon  into  my  reticule  with  an 
amazingly  swift  gesture,  and  before  I  could  say  "jiffy" 
he  was  gone  in  the  direction  of  the  casino. 

Nervous  excitement  has  always  exhausted  me  more 
than  physical  exertion,  and  I  have  acquired  the  prac- 
tice of  taking  a  short  nap  wherever  I  may  be  when 
the  occasion  necessitates  it.  And  so  when  the  poor 
crazy  man  had  gone  and  seemed  little  likely  to  re- 
turn I  settled  myself  for  a  cat  nap,  determined  to  com- 
pose my  nerves  and  not  allow  my  afternoon  to  be 
ruined  by  the  disturbing  incident.  But  though  I  roused 
myself  at  intervals  and  did  a  few  stitches  I  must  have 
drowsed  much  longer  than  I  had  thought  to,  for  when 
I  awoke  thoroughly  it  was  sunset. 

I  got  out  dear  father's  chronometer  and  was  hor- 
rified to  find  the  hour  past  six.  Here  I  had  been  a 
public  spectacle  for  goodness  knows  how  long!  I  at 
once  began  to  gather  my  things  together,  preparatory 
to  leaving  for  the  hotel  when  I  perceived  that  there 
was  a  great  to-do  at  the  casino.  People  began  pour- 
ing forth  and  cheering,  headed  by  a  wild  figure  in  a 
black  coat. 

And  then  things  began  to  happen  fast.  Before  I 
could  realize  that  the  procession  was  headed  for  me 
it  was  upon  me,  lead  by  my  suicidal  acquaintance,  his 
pockets  bursting  with  money,  his  hat,  mysteriously 
retrieved,  also  brimming  with  lucre,  his  vest  bulging 
with  it,  and  his  hand  full  of  bank  notes.  Straight  to- 
ward me  he  came,  and  dropping  upon  his  knees  he  flung 
both  hands  full  of  money  into  my  lap,  the  crowd  clos- 
ing in  about  us  despite  the  police  officers,  who  ran 
about  wildly  shouting,  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  order, 
please!" 

"My  benefactress!     My  good  angel!"  shouted  the 


84  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

kneeling  man.  "My  sign  from  heaven,  accept  a  few 
miserable  hundreds  as  your  inadequate  reward!" 

"You  have  been  gambling!"  I  said  severely,  while 
gathering  up  the  money  from  my  lap. 

"Yes,  I  broke  the  bank  on  your  advice !"  he  shouted. 
"Twenty  on  the  red,  ten  on  the  black.  Take,  oh,  take 
your  reward,  my  angel!" 

"I  will  take  this  shameful  money  for  the  foreign 
missions  at  home!"  I  said  severely.  "It  ought  to  be 
turned  to  holy  uses,  and  you  will  only  lose  it  again! 
And  please  get  up.  You  are  making  us  both  ridicu- 
lous!" 

But  before  he  could  comply,  to  my  unspeakable 
horror  Alicia  and  her  father  pushed  their  way  through 
the  crowd,  accompanied  by  a  young  man.  At  sight  of 
me  Peaches  gave  a  whoop  of  joy. 

"What  price  a  chaperon!"  she  yelled.  "Free,  you 
little  hellion!" 

She  turned  from  me  to  the  young  man  in  attendance. 

"Good  Lord,  what'll  I  have  to  get  her  out  of  next  ?" 
she  asked  him  whimsically.  And  then  I  recognized 
him. 

It  was  the  Duke  di  Monteventi ! 


VI 

EVEN  amidst  the  excitement  incident  to  my  personal 
predicament  I  could  not  but  be  surprised  at  that  young 
man's  being  there — and  with  Peaches!  He  had  the 
most  extraordinary  way  of  turning  up  unexpectedly. 
And  even  more  remarkable  was  the  way  in  which 
he  appeared  equal  to  whatever  situation  he  dropped 
into  the  midst  of,  for  now  it  was  he  who  maneuvered 
my  extrication  from  the  embarrassing  attentions  of  the 
bank-breaking  person,  and  it  was  on  his  arm  that  I 
departed  from  that  iniquitous  spot  to  which  I  had 
so  inadvertently  wandered.  It  was  not  until  we  re- 
turned to  the  hotel  that  I  learned  what  had  happened, 
and  then  dear  knows  it  was  nothing  to  his  credit. 

It  appears  that  they  had  met  him  at  the  gaming 
table.  But,  of  course,  that  could  not  be  counted  as 
wholly  against  him,  inasmuch  as  Peaches  herself  had 
been  there,  and  even  I  had  been  near  by,  though,  of 
course,  without  intention.  Obviously  I  was  not  in 
a  position  to  reprove  either  of  them,  though  I  took  the 
greatest  pains  to  explain  in  minute  detail  just  how 
the  situation  in  which  they  found  me  had  arisen, 
omitting  only  the  exact  nature  of  the  work  upon  which 
I  had  been  engaged. 

"Never  mind,  Free!"  said  Peaches  soothingly. 
"Don't  bother  to  alibi.  Both  father  and  I  have  played 
hunches  ourselves,  haven't  we,  dad?  Only  it's  gen- 
erally been  in  person." 

This  was  perfectly  unintelligible  to  me,  but  the  duke 

85 


86  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

apparently  understood,  for  he  smiled  that  wonderful 
golden  smile,  which  made  me  feel  as  if  I  would  do 
simply  anything  for  him.  Then  he  counted  what  they 
persisted  in  calling  my  winnings  for  me.  It  amounted 
to  nearly  two  hundred  francs. 

"Are  you  really  going  to  send  it  to  the  missions?" 
he  asked.  "You  might  double  it  at  the  tables,  you 
know,  Miss  Talbot !" 

"My  dear  duke,"  I  informed  him  promptly,  "I 
wouldn't  gamble  for  the  world!  I  intend  turning  this 
money  in  at  once  to  charitable  uses !" 

"What  a  lack  of  philosophy !"  he  cried,  throwing  out 
his  hand  in  a  despairing  gesture.  "How  much  is  fur- 
nished to  charity  from  sources  as  blind,  isn't  it?  But 
for  that  poor  gambler  where  would  your  donation  be  ? 
Don't  you  believe  the  end  often  justifies  the  means  ?" 

Peaches  took  this  up. 

"You  mean  a  person  has  to  fight  the  world  with 
its  own  weapons  lots  of  times,"  she  said  quickly. 

"I  do,"  he  said. 

"Well,  my  dear  father  always  held  that  fair  means 
made  clean  profits,"  I  said,  rising.  "And  I  believe 
that  no  matter  what  the  end,  the  process  to  it  should 
be  honest." 

And  then  I  left  them  to  make  out  a  money  order  to 
Doctor  Andrews,  as  I  did  not  like  having  all  that  cash 
upon  my  person;  and  anyway  the  receptacle  in  which 
I  carried  such  things  would  not  contain  so  much. 

In  the  corridor  I  ran  into  Mr.  Pegg.  I  would  have 
passed  on  my  way,  but  he  detained  me. 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Miss  Talbot,"  he  began, 
"what  was  the  dope  you  gave  that  feller  that  he  won 
on?"  His  voice  was  low  and  eager. 

"I  didn't  tell  him  a  thing!"  I  responded  indignantly. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  87 

"I  know  nothing  whatever  of  gambling,  Mr.  Pegg, 
as  you  are  perfectly  well  aware !" 

"I'm  not  so  dead  sure  about  what  you  know  and 
what  you  don't,"  said  Mr.  Pegg  slowly.  "But  I  am 
disappointed  you  won't  tell  me  what  you  told  that 
feller  to  do." 

"I  assure  you  I  imparted  to  him  no  information 
of  any  sort  whatsoever!"  I  repeated  with  dignity.  "I 
am  beginning  to  think  every  one  has  gone  a  little  mad 
in  this  climate!" 

"Well,  of  course  the  climate  ain't  like  California," 
murmured  my  employer  automatically.  "But  I'd  like 
to  know  what  you  told  him." 

Well,  I  wasn't  going  to  discuss  that  crazy  man  or 
my  conversation  regarding  the  socks  I  was  making, 
and  so  I  fled  to  the  seclusion  of  my  chamber  and  the 
completion  of  my  errand. 

But  when  I  had  written  my  letter  and  addressed 
my  envelope  I  fell  into  a  reverie  in  which  my  thoughts 
were  occupied  by  the  Duke  di  Monteventi.  It  was 
perfectly  apparent  that  he  was  going  to  see  something 
of  Peaches — in  all  likelihood  as  much  as  she  would 
permit — and  unless  my  premonition  and  intuition  were 
wholly  at  fault  that  would  mean  a  good  deal. 

And  why  not  ?  That  was  the  question. "  Was  there 
any  reason  why  not?  Of  course  Alicia  had  her  parent, 
who  was  naturally  the  prime  factor  in  any  restraint 
that  might  be  put  upon  her.  But  then,  Mr.  Pegg  did 
not  know  of  the  incident  of  the  motion-picture  house. 
Not  that  there  was  anything  in  it  to  the  young  man's 
discredit.  But  suitable  bachelors  did  not  generally 
have  a  mystery  attached  to  them  anywhere.  Of  course 
we  did  not  as  yet  even  know  that  he  was  a  bachelor, 


88  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

though  from  the  way  he  looked  at  Peaches  I  earnestly 
hoped  he  was. 

Should  I  inform  Mr.  Pegg  of  what  I  knew?  But 
what,  after  all,  did  I  know  ?  Nothing  except  that  two 
quite  unattractive  foreigners  seemed  to  have  designs 
upon  him.  And  those  friends  of  his,  Lord  and  Lady 
Gordon,  were  presumably  highly  desirable.  Well, 
Abby  might  know  something  about  him.  I  felt  my 
responsibility  toward  Peaches  heavily.  And  yet  I 
longed  for  a  romance.  Or  at  any  rate,  at  least  for  the 
spectacle  of  one.  Such  a  time  and  such  a  place  de- 
manded it.  Through  the  window  of  my  unhomelike 
hotel  bedroom  crept  the  scent  of  exotic  blossoms  on 
the  wings  of  a  gentle  breeze  which  stirred  my  letter 
to  the  minister  to  a  faint  fluttering.  I  looked  at  it 
hard  for  a  long  moment,  a  trifle  saddened  that  so  much 
sweetness  should  be  wasted  on  anything  less  than  a 
love  epistle.  Then  I  collected  my  emotions,  put  them, 
metaphorically  speaking,  away  in  dried  lavender,  where 
they  belonged,  sealed  my  letter  and  made  myself  ready 
for  dinner. 

When  I  rejoined  my  little  family  the  duke  had  gone, 
but  Peaches  could  talk  of  nothing  else. 

"Isn't  he  a  regular  guy?''  she  challenged  the  wbrld 
from  her  seat  upon  the  end  of  a  high  table.  "He's  two 
inches  taller  than  I  am!  We  measured.  And  he's 
the  goods — absolutely!  Got  an  old  ranch  that  was 
staked  out  during  the  pioneer  Christian  days,  back  in 
the  mountains.  But  it's  been  let  run  down." 

"Orchards?"  inquired  her  father,  his  interest  quick- 
ening. 

"Some,"  said  his  daughter.  "But  mostly  human 
livestock,  I  guess.  A  tenantry,  they  call  it." 

"Italian  for  rent  hog,"  commented  her  father. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  89 

And  we  went  down  to  dinner. 

One  of  our  more  popular,  less  erudite  poets,  has 
remarked  that  "There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
as  love's  young  dream."  Or  perhaps  it  was  a  classic 
poet.  I  am  not  certain  which,  and  must  for  once 
confess  to  ignorance  as  to  the  origin  of  a  quotation. 
But  it  is  one — the  sentence,  I  mean — for  which  I  have 
long  cherished  a  liking.  It  is  ill-expressed  perhaps, 
but  profoundly  true.  Love's  dream  is  always  young: 
that  is  one  of  the  finest  things  about  it.  The  tenderer 
emotions  have  a  curious  faculty  of  restoring  youth, 
or  at  least  temporarily  renewing  it.  Even  love  at 
secondhand,  by  observation  or  by  inference  as  it  were, 
is  capable  of  producing  a  reformation  of  the  spirit 
which  in  its  new-found  vitality  at  once  questions  the 
body  as  to  its  actual  age  and  state  of  decrepitude.  Is 
one  ever  really  old?  Does  one  pass  the  period  when 
romantic  love  can  obsess  one  without  one's  justifying 
ridicule?  Is  there,  indeed,  any  such  period?  Does 
not  true  love  always  dignify  its  victim?  These  are 
the  questions  which  such  a  contact  must  invariably 
engender.  And  I  confess  to  being  no  exception  to 
the  rule  as  I  watched  Alicia  and  the  duke. 

What  a  romance!  How  pleasing  in  every  way! 
Two  such  handsome  young  people  might  have  been,  as 
it  were,  taken  bodily  from  the  drawings  in  Godey's 
Ladies'  Book,  so  incredibly  beautiful  were  they;  or 
from  the  decorative  cover  of  a  more  modern  magazine, 
so  athletic  was  their  appearance. 

One  of  the  very  first  items  to  catch  and  hold  my 
admiring  attention  in  the  progress  of  their  affair  was 
the  bouquet  which  he  sent  her  the  morning  after  his 
arrival.  Here  in  a  land  where  flowers  were  cheap  and 
plentiful,  instead  of  sending  a  bushel  of  blossoms, 


90 


as  the  average  admirer  would  have  done,  a  small  box 
appeared  containing  an  exquisite  corsage  bouquet.  She 
was  almost  bound  to  wear  it.  And  she  did.  So  far 
so  good,  but  what  was  in  even  better  taste  and  a 
further  sign  of  breeding,  there  was  a  handful  of 
roses  for  me ! 

"My  dear,"  said  I  as  Peaches  gave  them  to  me, 
"that  young  man  is  a  thoroughbred,  take  my  word 
for  it,  even  if  he  is  a  foreigner!" 

"Well,  he's  only  half  Italian,  you  see!"  replied  my 
lovely  giantess  in  cheerful  explanation.  "His  mother 
was  a  Miss  Winton,  from  Cambridge,  the  daughter  of 
the  American  consul  at  Nice.  She  married  a  title, 
that's  all." 

"A  Winton  of  Cambridge!"  I  exclaimed,  a  great 
light  dawning  upon  me.  "That  explains  it,  of  course. 
The  Wintons  were  very  decent  people,  my  dear ;  very 
decent,  though  not  very  old.  I  am  sure  I  remember 
that  correctly.  I  will  write  and  ask  some  one  at  home 
for  further  particulars.  Meanwhile  I  know  no  reason 
why  you  should  not  see  something  of  him  if  you 
wish." 

"Thanks!"  said  Peaches.  "I  believe  I  might.  In 
fact  we  had  thought  of  taking  a  ride  this  afternoon. 
He's  got  a  friend  here  in  the  Besseleri  and  can  borrow 
two  horses.  Would  that  be  quite  all  right,  as  the 
English  say?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  take  a  groom  along,"  said  I,  re- 
calling what  little  I  knew  on  this  particular  point  of 
etiquette. 

I  had  never  indulged  in  equestrian  sports  in  my  own 
youth,  nor  had  Euphemia,  and  so  my  authoritative 
tone  was  derived  from  surmises  I  had  made  from  pic- 
tures I  had  seen  on  the  subject — pictures,  it  must  be 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  91 

confessed,  in  an  English  magazine,  where  a  groom  in 
pen  and  ink  always  figured  in  the  sketches  of  Rotten 
Row. 

Yet  when  Peaches  had  departed  sniffing  at  her  bou- 
quet, to  write  him  a  note,  because,  as  she  averred, 
the  telephone  service  was  so  bad — much  worse  than 
the  Los  Angeles  system — I  wondered  vaguely  if  she 
had  not  been  making  game  of  me  in  asking  my  per- 
mission and  advice.  Ordinarily  I  should  have  been 
certain  that  she  was,  but  this  time  there  was  a  genuine 
anxiety  on  her  part  to  do  the  correct  thing — a  faint 
doubting  of  her  own  omnipotence  which  was  new  and 
wholly  delightful. 

I  yearned  over  her  with  an  unuttered  blessing,  and 
returned  to  work  upon  my,  or  that  is  to  say,  Mr. 
Pegg's  sock.  How  delightful  the  world  seemed !  And, 
of  course,  his  being  a  Winton  made  such  a  difference! 

Of  Peaches  on  horseback  I  have  little  to  say  be- 
sides the  fact  that  she  and  the  duke  required  the  two 
tallest  horses  in  the  regiment.  Words  fail  me  when 
I  attempt  to  describe  how  she  looked,  for  there  she 
was  in  her  element.  By  some  mysterious  process  she 
had  acquired  a  hat  belonging  to  one  of  the  officers — 
a  strange  hat  indeed  for  a  man  to  have  worn  at  any 
time,  for  it  was  covered  with  cock's  plumes.  And 
Peaches  wore  it  with  an  air  of  nonchalance  difficult  to 
describe.  But  it  certainly  did  look  very  like  the  pic- 
tures to  which  I  have  referred  as  my  authority  on 
the  subject  of  horseback  riding.  There  was  no  groom 
with  them,  but  Mr.  Pegg  had  decided  to  go  along, 
so  that  was  all  right.  I  saw  them  start  and  then  de- 
cided to  have  the  yellow  brocade  which  I  had  pur- 
chased in  Paris  made  up  for  the  wedding. 

As  things  were,  I  was  not  altogether  surprised  to 


92  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

find  the  Duke  di  Monteventi  at  Abby's  house  on  the 
first  occasion  of  our  going  there  for  dinner.  I  was 
glad  it  was  so  magnificent  an  entertainment  with  music, 
because  when  those  two  young  people  met  in  the  beau- 
tiful hallway  there  should  have  been  music  and  flowers, 
and  there  were!  I  have  positively  never  seen  anything 
so  handsome  as  the  duke  in  evening  dress,  except 
Peaches  in  that  simple  Nile-green  satin  gown!  They 
came  together  like — like  two  branches  of  a  stream — 
at  once  playfully  antagonistic  and  blending!  Yet  their 
language  was  curiously  unromantic. 

"Cheero!"  said  the  duke.     "You  look  ripping!" 

"You're  not  so  dusty  yourself,"  rejoined  Peaches. 

And  then  Abby  bore  down  upon  us ;  Abby  in  a  per- 
fectly outrageous  black  evening  gown  with  diamonds 
as  big  as  pigeons'  eggs  in  her  ears,  and  very  little  else. 
She  sailed  up  like  a  small  sloop,  all  trig  and  confident, 
and  after  pecking  me  on  the  cheek  extended  a  flower- 
like  hand  to  Mr.  Pegg. 

"It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  come!"  she  said.  "Dear 
Freedom  has  talked  of  you  so  often!" 

"Charmed!"  murmured  Mr.  Pegg,  his  eyes  riveted 
upon  her  smooth  head.  "Delighted!" 

It  was  quite  perfect,  and  I  experienced  a  tremendous 
sense  of  relief.  One  would  never  have  suspected 
that  he  was  paying  for  this  gorgeous  entertainment. 
But  I  did  not  like  the  look  he  gave  her,  nor  the  way 
his  eyes  followed  her  all  evening.  Somehow  it  made 
me  unpleasantly  conscious  of  my  own  hair,  in  which 
I  had  always  heretofore  maintained  a  good  deal  of 
pride.  And  somehow  my  gray  corded  silk  with  the 
collar  of  real  lace  and  mamma's  cameo  pin  did  not 
seem  quite  so  lovely  as  I  had  always  thought  them, 
either ;  though  they  were  undoubtedly  more  modest  - 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  93 

and  more  suitable  to  our  age  than  Abby's  costume 
was.  Fortunately  my  walkrite  shoes  did  not  show  un- 
der my  gown,  and  I  managed  to  keep  them  pretty  well 
concealed  through  the  evening.  But  I  digress. 

Abby's  villa  was  a  delightful  one,  situated,  as  she 
had  said,  at  the  back  of  the  pleasantly  cosmopolitan 
little  town  of  San  Remo,  and  nestling  high  on  the 
sheltering  hills,  the  miniature  garden  being  built  on 
terraces  and  inclosed  by  a  whitewashed  wall  against 
which  the  evergreens  of  the  mountain  crowded  sharply, 
and  over  which  the  roses  and  geraniums  and  clematis 
flung  abandoned  sprays  of  sweetness,  as  if  the  little 
inclosure  were  an  overflowing  bowl  of  goodies.  There 
were  minute  statuettes  in  the  garden,  veiled  and  soft- 
ened by  moss  and  the  winter  damps  of  a  century,  and 
a  little  fountain  half  choked  with  water  flowers,  but 
tinkling  endlessly  from  a  broken  conch  shell.  There 
were  hidden  benches,  too,  set  as  though  for  lovers; 
and,  incongruously,  a  smooth  bit  of  turf  near  the 
veranda  where  Abby  practiced  putting,  which  is,  I 
am  informed,  a  section  of  the  game  of  golf. 

But  though  the  garden  was  old  and  steeped  in 
romance  the  interior  of  the  villa  was  modernized  and 
gay.  And  on  the  night  of  this,  our  first  entertain- 
ment there,  a  sense  of  festivity  was  diffused  by  a 
clever  profusion  of  half-hidden  lights,  quantities  of 
flowers,  sporting  prints,  magazines  galore,  for  Abby 
read  nothing  else,  and  a  general  crowding  together 
of  old  and  new  furnishings,  even  to  pictures  and  hang- 
ings, until  the  little  house  seemed  incapable  of  holding 
another  thing.  But  it  was  brave  and  gay  and  being 
made  the  best  of — very  like  Abby  herself. 

Of  the  guests  besides  ourselves  there  was  not  much 
to  be  said  in  the  way  of  charm,  but  a  great  deal  in 


94  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

the  way  of  distinction  and  quality.  For  there  was 
Sir  Anthony  and  Lady  Spier,  who  did  nothing  in 
the  world  except  live  in  San  Remo  each  winter  and 
compare  it  unfavorably  with  Sussex,  to  which,  how- 
ever, they  seldom  returned.  They  looked  a  good  deal 
alike  and  ate  heartily.  Sir  Anthony  had  set  views  on 
California,  where  he  had  never  been,  and  he  posi- 
tively refused  to  accept  Mr.  Pegg's  statements  about  it, 
which  circumstance  gave  rise  to  quite  a,  lively  discus- 
sion. 

There  were  also  present  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  DeVere- 
Poole,  of  New  York;  expensive-looking  people  who 
Abby  afterward  assured  me  were  very  fashionable. 
And  no  doubt  they  were — in  New  York.  But  in  Bos- 
ton I  had  never  heard  of  them,  though  of  course  Mrs. 
Poole  was  familiar  with  my  family  and  asked  a  few 
vague  questions  about]  .some  Boston  people  named 
Cabot,  after  which  she  lapsed  into  the  cigarette-in- 
fested silence  which  appeared  habitual  with  her. 

Then  there  was  a  voluble  captain  of  the  Queen's 
Bodyguard,  in  uniform,  an  acquaintance  of  the  duke's, 
and  of  a  distinguished  but  broken  family,  I  believe. 
However  that  may  have  been,  I  do  not  know.  But  I 
can  vouch  for  the  condition  of  his  English,  which  was 
worse  than  broken;  it  was  shattered.  And  that  was 
the  company. 

As  for  the  food — I  never  saw  so  much  food  so 
thoroughly  disguised  in  my  life.  It  resembled  an 
edible  patchwork  quilt  made  out  of  whole  cloth.  But 
it  was  delicious.  All  in  all  the  venture  was  a  huge 
success  and  my  proteges  behaved  splendidly. 

It  was  only  after  dinner,  under  the  influence  of  a 
cigar — Abby  permitted  smoking  in  any  part  of  the 
house,  it  seenfed — that  Mr.  Pegg  relaxed  into  his 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  95 

natural  manner,  and  I  began  to  fear  disaster.  Peaches 
was  smoking — every  one  was  smoking,  in  fact,  except 
myself.  And  Mr.  Pegg,  sticking  his  thumbs  into  the 
armholes  of  his  black  and  white  striped  silk  vest, 
refused  to  be  seated,  but  strode  about  the  crowded 
drawing-rooms,  asking  questions  about  all  that  they 
contained.  I  am  mortified  to  confess  that  he  appeared 
chiefly  interested  in  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  objects 
which  attracted  his  attention,  and  showed  no  hesitancy 
about  asking  their  price. 

"Since  I  come  over  here  abroad,  countess,"  he  re- 
marked to  Abby,  who  followed  languidly  in  his  trail, 
a  cigarette  in  an  immensely  long  holder  between  her 
artificially  reddened  lips — "since  I  come  over  I  sure 
have  had  an  eye  opener  about  secondhand  pictures 
and  furniture  and  such  stuff!  That's  why  I'm  inter- 
ested in  your  things.  I  thought  I  knew  something 
about  commercial  values,  but  I  see  I  can  learn." 

"Why,  I  thought  Sebastian  Markheim  was  a  great 
friend  of  yours!"  commented  Abby.  "And  he's  a 
famous  collector." 

"He's  a  famous  collector  of  culls  and  worn-out 
stock,"  chuckled  the  Citrus  King.  "Bought  a  ranch 
near  one  of  mine,  and  the  hoppers  ate  what  trees  he 
had,  the  first  year.  Then  I  got  him  a  flock  of  turkeys 
to  keep  'em  down  and  he  done  better  next  year.  But 
all  the  secondhand  antiques  he  had  over  to  his  ranch 
house  come  from  a  fire  sale  in  Oroville,  and  consisted 
principally  of  a  slightly  scorched  set  of  real  genuine 
varnished  oak  dating  way  back  to  1910." 

"Who  is  this  that  possessed  such  a  treasure  ?"  asked 
the  duke,  strolling  up  and  joining  our  little  tour  of 
inspection — for  I  was  with  them,  being  anxious  to 
hear  what  Mr.  Pegg  and  Abby  were  talking  about. 


96  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Sebastian  Markheim!"  replied  Abby  quickly.  "He 
is  a  friend  of  dear  Mr.  Pegg's." 

Dear  Mr.  Pegg  indeed!  And  she  had  never  met 
him  before  that  evening!  I  determined  to  do  some- 
thing about  this  at  once;  though  just  what,  and  about 
what,  I  did  not  quite  know  at  the  moment,  but  you 
will  understand  me.  Mr.  Pegg,  however,  beamed  at 
Abby,  and  then  turned  to  the  duke. 

"Neighbor  of  mine  on  the  coast,"  he  explained. 
"Nice  feller,  but  knows  nothing  at  all  about  citrus 
fruit." 

"But  he  does  know  about  antiques,"  laughed  the 
duke.  "His  collection  is  world-famous.  Are  you  in- 
terested along  those  lines  ?" 

"More  curious  than  anything,"  Mr.  Pegg  admitted. 
"You  see,  I  don't  intend  to  let  any  branch  of  knowl- 
edge go  untouched  if  I  can  help  it.  That's  one  of  the 
traits  that  makes  us  Americans  so  remarkable." 

"I  see,"  replied  Monteventi.  "Have  you  shown  him 
the  Mantegna?"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Abby. 

"Mantegna!"  I  exclaimed.  "A  genuine  Mantegna! 
How  wonderful!" 

"Let's  have  a  look!"  said  my  employer. 

"It's  in  here!"  assented  our  hostess,  and  led  the  way 
into  a  little  alcove  room,  where  upon  the  bare  plaster 
wall  the  masterpiece  hung — a  strange,  melancholy 
primitive  of  the  ascension,  the  agony  of  the  dark  ages 
in  its  solemn  coloring,  and  struggling  for  technic.  I 
stood  in  silent  awe, — it  was  such  a  precious  thing 
to  be  in  private  ownership,  and  of  all  persons,  in 
Abby's!  I  sighed  and  turned,  to  see  a  curious  look 
upon  the  face  of  the  young  duke,  who  towered  beside 
me.  Never  had  I  seen  anything  so  amazing  as  the 
transformation  which  had  taken  place  in  him.  There 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  97 

came  into  it  a  look  of  reverence  mixed  with  a  passion- 
ate fire  which  seemed  almost  for  the  moment  to  con- 
sume him.  His  face  was  that  of  a  saint,  a  religious 
fanatic,  a  young  crusader.  His  eyes  burned  and  the 
color  had  receded  from  his  cheeks.  To  say  that  I  was 
shocked  and  fascinated  at  this  transformation  is  to  put 
it  mildly.  Then  he  caught  my  eyes  and  his  color  came 
back. 

"You  understand  pictures,  Miss  Talbot,"  he  said 
quietly.  "I  remember." 

"Pretty  homely,  I  call  it,"  said  Mr.  Pegg's  voice 
behind  us.  "But  I  suppose  that  makes  it  all  the  more 
valuable.  How  much  do  you  calculate  it  is  worth?" 

In  an  instant  the  duke  had  turned  to  him,  his  ex- 
pression normal  once  more. 

"An  Italian  work  of  art  of  such  a  character  as  this 
is  beyond  price,"  he  declared,  a  deep  note  in  his  voice ; 
"though  that  little  painting  would  easily  fetch  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  in  the  market — which  it  will 
never  reach,  thank  God!" 

"You  seem  to  think  a  lot  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Pegg. 
"I  wouldn't  give  five  dollars  for  it,  but  I  suppose  some 
people  would." 

"Markheim,  for  instance!"  remarked  the  duke.  "But 
he  couldn't  get  it.  One  of  our  charming  hostess'  chief 
claims  to  distinction  is  that  though  an  American  by 
birth  she  has  the  Italian  loyalty  about  such  matters." 

He  bowed  charmingly. 

"Sandro  means  that  no  matter  how  hard  up  I  was 
I  wouldn't  break  the  law  by  selling  an  Italian  work  of 
art  for  export,"  she  explained  lightly.  "And  this  one, 
least  of  all.  It  came  from  my  late  husband's  home," 
she  went  on,  "and  is  one  of  the  few  things  I  managed 
to  save." 


98  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Is  there  a  law  about  taking  such  things  out  of 
Italy?"  asked  Mr.  Pegg. 

"I  should  say  there  was !"  exclaimed  the  duke.  "The 
country  was  being  stripped  by  moneyed  foreigners  un- 
til it  was  enforced.  We  natives  feel  strongly  on  the 
subject,  Mr.  Pegg.  But  it  is  a  dangerous  thing  to 
smuggle  a  masterpiece  out  of  Italy  now,  I  am  happy 
to  say." 

"Then  how  do  you  suppose  Mr.  Markheim  succeeded 
in  getting  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp,"  I  put  in,  "which 
he  bought  last  month?" 

"Markheim  has  Raphael's  masterpiece!"  he  cried 
sharply.  "Since  when?" 

"Well,  young  man,  you  needn't  look  at  me  like  that," 
I  said.  "I  didn't  smuggle  it  for  him,  I'm  sure!  He 
bought  it  in  New  York;  why,  on  the  very  day  that 
you  discovered  that  robbery  at  the  Gordons' !" 

"Curious  that  I  didn't  see  the  notice,"  he  murmured, 
still  staring  at  me.  "I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Talbot.  I 
didn't  meant  to  be  rude,  I'm  sure.  But  this  was  the 
first  I  had  heard  of  it,  and  such  things  interest  me 
greatly." 

"They  would  interest  any  Italian,"  declared  Abby. 
"You  see,  things  are  occasionally  smuggled  out  in 
spite  of  an  eternal  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  secret 
service.  Though  as  I  remember,  it's  a  good  long 
while  since  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp  disappeared. 
It  was  reported  to  be  in  Berlin  years  ago,  but  this  is 
the  first  time  it  has  actually  come  to  light.  Very 
interesting,  I'm  s,ure.  And  if  we  really  should  go  to 
war  with  Austria  I  expect  we  would  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  bringing  back  a  great  many  things  across 
the  mountains  yonder.  Let's  go  out,  by  the  way,  and 
have  a  look  at  them  in  the  moonlight." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  99 

She  tucked  her  arm  into  that  of  Mr.  Pegg  in  the 
most  exasperatingly  familiar  way,  which  he  did  not 
seem  to  resent  in  the  least,  and  together  they  went  out 
through  the  window  into  the  moon-filled  garden.  And 
even  as  they  went  Peaches  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
her  hair  wind-blown  and  her  magnificent  dress  a  trifle 
disordered,  but  if  possible  even  more  lovely  than  ever. 

"Oh,  there  you  are,  Sandro!"  she  said,  catching 
sight  of  the  duke.  "Come  outside,  quick!  There's 
an  aeroplane  flying  right  into  the  moon.  They  say 
it's  Caproni  himself!" 

And  forthwith  they  vanished,  leaving  me  to  absorb 
a  detailed  description  of  Sir  Anthony's  indigestion,  de- 
livered by  himself,  which  description  lasted  for  the 
remainder  of  the  evening.  But  my  thoughts  were  on 
other  things,  though  I  said  "Yes?"  and  "Indeed!" 
automatically  whenever  Sir  Anthony  came  to  a  full 
stop. 

So  it  was  "Sandro"  already,  was  it?  And  that 
same  Sandro,  who  loved  famous  paintings  so,  and 
knew  such  a  lot  about  them,  had  been  somewhere  that 
newspapers  did  not  reach  from  the  time  the  panels 
were  stolen  from  the  chateau  in  which  he  was  visit- 
ing, until  he  reappeared  at  Monte  Carlo.  But  where 
had  he  been  during  that  period,  and  what  doing?  I 
puzzled  the  matter  over  all  the  while  as  we  said  good 
night  and  climbed  into  our  high-powered  motor,  at 
the  wheel  of  which  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  sat  like  a 
sullen  schoolboy,  while  Peaches,  abandoning  her  usual 
place  beside  him,  climbed  into  the  back  with  the  duke, 
whom  we  were  dropping  at  his  hotel. 

And  the  puzzle  stayed  in  my  mind  after  Peaches 
was  asleep  that  night,  she  having  first  talked  herself 
tired  about  her  Sandro,  she  describing  him  in  turn  as 


100  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

a  king,  a  sport,  a  Greek  statue  and  a  bearcat.  And 
I  was  still  puzzling  over  him  for  an  hour  after  Mor- 
pheus had  claimed  her,  which  hour  I  occupied  in  trying 
on  various  pairs  of  her  high-heeled  French  shoes,  and 
finding  them  less  uncomfortable  than  I  had  anticipated 
and  certainly  more  becoming  to  the  foot  than  my 
hygiene  walkrite  footwear.  Of  course  Peaches'  shoes 
were  too  big  for  me,  as  my  foot  was  smaller  than 
Abby's,  considerably  smaller,  in  fact ;  whereas  Peaches' 
footgear  was — well,  Calif ornian.  But  it  did  well 
enough  to  practice  in,  and  I  took  advantage  of  this 
solitary  hour  to  do  so. 

But  all  the  while  that  I  walked  up  and  down  my 
chamber,  the  heels  occasionally  almost  betraying  me, 
my  mind  was  on  the  duke.  I  determined  to  ask  Abby 
all  about  him,  for  I  deemed  it  my  duty.  And  besides 
that,  I  wanted  to  see  Abby  soon  again;  I  wanted  to  find 
out  where  she  got  her  corsets. 


VII 

AT  this  point  in  my  narrative  I  call  to  mind  the 
fact  that  my  dear  father  ever  laid  the  greatest  stress 
upon  the  importance  of  the  effect  which  the  pursuit  of 
reading  has  upon  the  human  mind  and  upon  the  minds 
of  juveniles  in  particular.  He  was  convinced  that  if 
Euclid  were  read  to  a  point  of  thorough  familiarity 
at  the  age  of  twelve  years  by  every  male  American 
the  result  would  be  a  marked  effect  upon  the  political 
life  of  the  nation,  I  remember;  and  he  recommended 
that  girls  from  the  age  of  nine  to  nineteen  be  made 
thoroughly  conversant  with  Saint  Paul.  In  his  famous 
treatise  on  the  subject,  entitled  The  Education  of  Free- 
dom Talbot,  he  dwells  at  length  upon  the  supreme 
importance  of  young  people  having  access  to  books  of 
the  best  quality  without  "let  or  hindrance,"  and  devotes 
three  chapters  to  the  influence  upon  the  later  life  of 
the  individual  of  those  books  which  are  perused  during 
the  preadolescent  and  adolescent  periods. 

And  unquestionably  his  deductions  in  this  matter, 
as  in  all  others,  were  sound.  For  in  looking  back 
upon  my  conduct  from  the  time  of  my  leaving  Eu- 
phemia,  my  home,  and  the  carefully  regulated  routine 
of  my  existence  in  Boston  I  perceive  that  my  course 
was  unquestionably  influenced  by  a  volume  of  which 
I  obtained  possession  at  the  age  of  eleven,  though  I 
have  greatly  feared  since — indeed  I  was,  in  point 
of  fact,  greatly  in  fear  at  the  time  when  I  perused 
its  fascinating  intricacies— that  it  was  not  a  book  which 

101 


102  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

my  paternal  parent  would  have  selected  as  suitable  for 
the  sprouting  of  the  young  idea — especially  for  a 
sprout  of  the  feminine  gender.  The  title  of  this  du- 
bious but  well-remembered  literary  production  was 
Daisy  Dashforth,  the  Girl  Detective,  and  was  the  fruit 
of  the  pen  of  some  lesser  literary  light  whom  Fame 
has  allowed  to  sink  into  oblivion. 

But  there  was  in  it  some  quality  of  keenness,  of 
wit,  of  relish  for  adventure,  of  sharpness  of  observa- 
tion, which  remained  with  me,  and  which  I  refuse  to 
dismiss  as  of  no  importance.  Indeed  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  without  the  subconscious  influence  upon  my 
mind  of  this  book,  which  had  remained  in  abeyance 
through  the  years  until  occasion  called  it  forth — it  is 
quite  possible,  I  say,  that  without  it  I  should  never 
have  had  courage  to  take  the  initial  step  which  pried 
me  loose  from  the  home  of  my  ancestors  and  set  me 
forth  upon  a  career  at  a  time  of  life  when  most  fe- 
males are  drawing  such  careers  as  God  has  appointed 
for  them  to  a  close.  Of  course  I  had  the  incentive  of 
keeping  the  ancestral  roof  over  Euphemia's  head  to 
drive  me  forth  from  under  it;  but  that  was  no  doubt 
reenforced  by  the  memory  of  Daisy.  Moreover,  the 
book  had  sharpened  my  taste  for  mystery  and  my  in- 
stinct for  seeing  beneath  the  surface  of  things,  which 
faculty,  in  more  commonplace  surroundings,  would 
in  all  probability  have  been  turned  to  the  viler  uses 
of  village  gossip. 

So  it  was  from  a  combined  motive  of  scientific 
research  into  a  situation  which  to  me  at  least  had 
begun  to  savor  of  mystery  and  a  sense  of  duty  to  my 
employer  that  I  went  to  visit  with  Abby.  Nobody 
could  suspect  me  of  the  desire  for  gossip.  It  was 
simply  my  plain  duty  to  discover  what  I  could  about 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  103 

this  handsome  young  duke  before  my  charge  became 
hopelessly  involved  in  his  toils — in  other  words  to  find 
out  if  they  were  really  toils,  or  merely  addresses.  And 
incidentally  I  wished  to  confirm  my  impression  of  how 
Abby  dressed  her  hair,  achieving  that  youthful  effect 
with  such  success. 

So  packing  up  my  knitting  I  put  on  a  pair  of  Alicia's 
high-heeled  shoes  for  practice,  strapping  them  on  with 
elastic  bands;  without,  however,  mentioning  the  "cir- 
cumstance to  her  for  fear  that  she  would  ridicule  my 
enterprise;  and  requesting  of  Richard,  the  chauffeur, 
that  he  convey  me  to  San  Remo,  we  set  forth  in  com- 
pany. Alicia  was  nowhere  about  when  I  left,  but  there 
was  no  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to  who  was  with  her, 
wherever  she  was.  Apparently  there  existed  no  doubt 
in  the  mind  of  Talbot,  either.  I  was  seated  beside 
him  so  as  to  be  nearer  help  in  case  of  an  accident,  and 
as  we  bowled  along  over  the  perfect  road  with  its  en- 
chanting vistas  of  sea  and  fascinating  walled  gardens 
I  could  not  fail  to  note  the  grave  look  upon  his  clean, 
if  somewhat  rough  profile.  His  long  nose  was  par- 
ticularly expressive.  I  was  not  surprised  when  he 
broke  the  silence  with  his  customary  freedom  but 
without  his  habitual  gay  carelessness. 

"Say,  Cousin  Mary,"  he  began,  using  the  absurd 
form  of  address  of  which  I  had  been  quite  unable  to 
break  him — "say,  Cousin  Mary,  lookit  here.  What  do 
you  think  of  this  he-duke  of  Peaches'?  Do  you  think 
she  likes  him  pretty  well  ?" 

"It  is  a  trifle  dangerous  to  surmise  what  a  young 
woman  may  think  about  a  young  man  until  a  definite 
announcement  is  made,"  I  replied. 

We  rode  a  little  farther  in  silence  and  then  he  broke 
out  again. 


104.  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"He's  a  foreigner!"  he  said  with  all  the  distrust 
that  a  good  American  is  capable  of  imparting  to  the 
term.  "A  foreigner!  I  can't  see  how  he  came  to  be 
such  a  bucko !  But  he  is,  all  right,  all  right,  and  she's 
crazy  over  him!  Damn  it,  I  might  have  known  I 
couldn't  hold  her!" 

"Talbot!"  I  exclaimed.  "Don't  swear!  And  you 
must  remember  that  democracy  is  for  the  poor.  Upon 
becoming  so  rich  it  was  but — but  American  for 
Peaches  to  acquire  a  proper  sense  of  her  social  superior- 
ity and  to  confirm  it  by  marrying  a  title.  Though  in 
her  case  I  believe  we  can  feel  sure  that  her  affections 
would  come  first.  If  she  marries  this  young  man  it 
will  be  simply  and  solely  because  she  loves  him.  We 
can  depend  on  that." 

Then  I  caught  sight  of  his  "face  and  wished  I  had 
not  spoken. 

"I  guess  he's  a  fine  chap,"  he  said  slowly.  "And  he 
can  give  her  a  fancy  handle  to  her  name.  Judas 
Priest!  What  can  I  give  her?  I'm — 'I'm  a  servant,  I 
am.  I've  learned  a  lot  since  I  came  over  here.  Let's 
go  back  to  California!" 

"I  know,  Richard,"  I  replied  soothingly.  "Cali- 
fornia, where  there  are  no  servants !  I'm  really  sorry, 
dear  boy,  but  remember  we  don't  know  anything  defi- 
nite yet.  And  we  don't  know  anything  against  the 
duke,  either." 

"Do  you  know  about  his  older  brother?"  asked 
Richard,  the  chauffeur,  abruptly. 

"No!    What  about  him?"  I  answered  quickly. 

"He  disappeared  very  mysteriously  about  ten  years 
ago,"  said  Richard.  "Two  guys  that  was  on  the  boat 
coming  over  from  England  was  talking  to  me  about 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  105 

it.  They  are  here  now.  I  met  them  in  a  saloon  and 
they  told  me  a  little  something." 

"Repeat  it  all,  Richard !"  I  commanded.  "What  did 
they  say?" 

"Well,  it  seems  this  brother  was  the  duke,"  elucidated 
my  informant.  "He  was  last  seen  in  Africa  on  a 
hunting  expedition  with  our  duke.  And  then  the  both 
of  them  disappeared  for  a  while.  When  the  duke  come 
back  he  had  the  title.  There  seems  to  be  some  doubt 
about  his  having  a  honest  claim  to  it." 

"What  nonsense!"  I  said.  "Talbot,  you  no  sooner 
convince  me  that  you  are  not  a  servant  than  you  be- 
gin to  talk  like  one.  My  Cousin  Abby  receives  him, 
and  that  is  enough!  You  should  not  listen  to  such 
wild  stories !" 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  Villa  Bordeaux,  and 
taking  my  workbag  I  descended.  Richard,  the  chauf- 
feur, parked  the  car  and  settled  back  in  it,  presumably 
to  dwell  upon  the  unhappy  course  of  his  love  while  he 
waited  for  me ;  and  I  entered  the  villa,  much  disturbed 
by  what  he  had  just  told  me,  and  determined  to  find 
but  the  whole  truth  at  once, 

I  found  Cousin  Abby  immersed  in  newspapers,  cig- 
arette smoke  and  a  most  attractive  negligee;  and 
though  I  could  never  endure  to  see  a  woman  loung- 
ing round  the  house  in  a  wrapper  I  confess  she  looked 
charming.  At  my  entrance  she  glanced  up  without  ris- 
ing. 

"Hello,  Free!"  she  greeted  me  over  the  dangling 
filthy  weed  that  clung  to  her  lip  like — like  Richard's! 
"Hello,  old  thing!  Sit  down.  Smoke?  Oh,  of  course 
not!  I've  been  reading  about  this  beastly  war  we  are 
going  to  have.  Won't  it  be  a  bore  ?" 

"Do  you  really  think  England  and  Germany  will 


106  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

break?"  I  said.  It  was  what  every  one  said  in  those 
days,  a  sort  of  formula  of  greeting  like  "Good  morn- 
ing" or  "How  do  you  do"  without  meaning  it  too 
seriously,  don't  you  know?  And  then  more  vital 
matters  would  be  taken  up. 

"Oh,  I  don't  really  suppose  so!"  she  said.  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you,  my  dear.  Did  that  charming  Mr. 
Pegg  enjoy  my  little  party?" 

"I  am  sure  he  did!"  I  replied,  stiffening  a  little. 
Her  tone  was  altogether  too  intimate.  "So  did  I,  and 
so  did  Alicia.  It  is  about  her  that  I  have  come  prin- 
cipally, Abby." 

"You  mean  about  the  duke?"  inquired  Abby,  with 
surprising  astuteness.  "I  noticed  they  were  pretty 
thick." 

"I  assume  you  would  not  have  invited  the  young 
man  unless  you  knew  him  to  be  desirable?"  I  said 
earnestly. 

"I  didn't  invite  him!"  said  my  sprightly  relative. 
"He  called  me  up  in  the  afternoon  and  insisted  upon 
coming!  I  would  never  have  dared  to  take  the  re- 
sponsibility of  inviting  Sandro  to  meet  any  woman — 
but  he  simply  said  that  he  knew  them  and  knew  they 
were  coming,  and  so  was  he." 

"But  my  dear!"  I  exclaimed.  "He  is  simply  a 
chance — a  very  chance  acquaintance  with  us.  You 
must  know  him  well  to  call  him  by  his  first  name. 
Tell  me  all  about  him !" 

"I  do  know  him  well!"  she  admitted,  lighting  a 
new  cigarette  as  I  started  a  new  row  on  my  sock. 
"Everybody  who  is  anybody  knows  Sandro.  He  plays 
about  with  the  very  best  people.  I've  known  him  for 
ten  years.  But  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about  him. 
He  has  a  good  figure  and  a  charming  smile  and  never 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  107 

borrows  money,  though  he  gambles  heavily  at  periods. 
And  that's  all  I  can  say." 

"But  my  dear!"  I  protested.  "Who  are  his  family? 
Surely  you  know  that?" 

"That's  simple  enough!"  said  Abby.  "His  mother 
was  a  Miss  Winton,  as  you  know — the  daughter  of  the 
American  consul  here  at  San  Remo.  His  father  was 
the  holder  of  one  of  our  very  oldest  titles.  There  was 
a  brother  who  was  killed  in  Africa  in  a  game  accident 
— an  older  twin,  I  believe.  Really,  my  dear,  I  don't 
think  there  is  the  faintest  mystery  about  Sandy,  as  we 
call  him.  No  money — land-poor  with  an  old  rat's  nest 
of  a  castle  back  in  the  hills,  and  not  fit,  they  say,  for 
human  habitation;  a  Harvard  education,  expensive 
tastes  and  an  aptitude  for  recouping  at  the  tables  here 
— a  clever  amateur  of  the  arts  and  a  dear  fellow.  And 
that's  all.  Why,  what  more  is  there  to  know  about 
any  unattached  young  male?" 

"Poverty  would  be  no  crime  in  this  case,"  I  observed. 
"Though  I  think  that  if  he  is  so  hard  up  he  ought 
to  go  to  work." 

"He's  not  hard  up,  except  for  a  duke!"  laughed 
Abby.  "At  least  he  always  seems  to  have  enough 
to  get  by  with.  There's  no  talk  of  debts,  he  doesn't 
keep  a  car,  and  lives  extremely  modestly." 

"And  you  have  never  heard  anything  peculiar  about 
him?"  I  persisted. 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  go  quite  as  far  as  to  say  that!" 
said  Abby,  "for  it  was  very  vague.  About  a  year  ago 
I  heard  that  the  secret  service  was  supposed  to  be 
shadowing  him.  We  were  staying  at  the  same  country 
house,  the  Welch-Finleys,  and  he  left  utterly  without 
warning,  and  it  gave  rise  to  some  talk.  People  re- 
membered about  his  brother,  and,  of  course,  no  one 


108  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

has  ever  understood  quite  how  he  died.  They  were 
devoted,  however — mad  about  each  other;  I  know  it 
for  a  fact.  And  Sandy  often  speaks  of  him  most 
affectionately. 

"Still  it  isn't  usual  for  the  secret  service  to  shadow 
people — the  best  people,  is  it?"  I  protested. 

"Oh,  quite!"  said  Abby.  "At  least  in  Europe  it  is. 
Nowadays  everybody  is  suspected  of  being  a  Prussian 
or  an  Englishman  or  a  Frenchman  or  an  Italian,  ac- 
cording as  they  proclaim  themselves  to  be  the  other. 
You  see,  everybody  is  in  the  secret  service  of  at  least 
one  nation,  or  say  they  are,  and  to  be  overlooked  by 
the  police  would  be  rather  a  slight.  So  don't  worry 
about  the  smiling  duke,  because  he  is  quite  all  right  as 
far  as  we  know,  and  that  is  a  long  way  in  this  wicked, 
sophisticated  old  world.  And  now  do  tell  me  more 
about  dear  Mr.  Pegg!  He  has  promised  to  drive  me 
out  to  Sorrento  to-morrow.  And  tell  me  all  about 
lemons!" 

"I'd  rather  you'd  tell  me  who  makes  your  stays, 
my  dear!"  I  replied.  "They  are  so  youthful!" 

Well,  that  was  all  I  could  learn  from  Abby — I 
mean  about  the  duke.  Upon  the  secondary  subject 
she  was  most  generously  full  of  information.  And  I 
came  away  reassured  to  a  certain  extent. 

On  the  other  hand  I  did  not  like  Abby's  calling  Mr. 
Pegg  by  his  intimate  name  of  Pinto,  which  she  did 
once  or  twice  during  the  remainder  of  our  talk.  Be- 
cause I  could  not  bring  myself  to  the  belief  that  Abby 
would  be  the  proper  stepmother  for  Peaches.  Their 
tastes  were  too  much  alike.  And  though  I  had  very 
little  against  Abby  except  her  clothes,  I  was  as  yet 
unconvinced  that  clothes  would  make  a  man  happy. 
And  while  I  worked  on  the  socks  I  was  making  for 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  109 

Mr.  Pegg  as  I  sat  up  late  that  night  waiting  for 
Peaches  to  return  from  a  moonlit  walk  with  the  duke, 
I  wondered  again  and  again  how  a  woman  of  Abby's 
age  could  think  so  much  of  such  things. 

When  Peaches  came  in  at  last  and  I  had  helped 
her  out  of  the  dress  of  light  gray  satin  which  she  had 
worn,  I  could  not  but  think  that  the  girl  was  daily 
giving  greater  justification  to  her  pet  name.  Her  skin 
was  as  smooth  and  soft  as  the  satin  from  which  it 
emerged,  and  as  gleaming.  The  garment  itself  was 
like  a  piece  of  the  silver  night  outside,  and  her  eyes 
were  deep  soft  pools,  her  head  like  a  golden  star.  It 
hardly  seemed  right  that  any  woman  should  be  so 
beautiful.  She  had  taken  some  softening  quality  from 
the  Italian  skies  as  if  this  corner  of  the  globe  which 
was  so  like  and  yet  so  unlike  her  native  heath  had 
rubbed  off  the  crudities  left  by  the  sharper  climate, 
and  done  so  the  more  readily  because  the  country  was 
all  so  familiar  to  her — far  more  so  than  to  Boston- 
bred  me — and  she  was  ripe  for  impressions,  whereas 
I  was  merely  ready  for  comparisons.  She  was  un- 
usually silent,  though  her  glowing  face  was  as  easily 
read  as  a  printed  page.  I  helped  her  ijnto  a  soft  white 
negligee. 

"Sandy!"  she  said,  going  to  the  window  and  look- 
ing down  at  the  dimly  twinkling  town  and  the  black, 
moon-cut  shape  of  the  sweeping  coast  line.  "I  am 
going  to  call  him  Sandy!  I  can  put  my  head  on  his 
shoulder  without  leaning  down,  Free!" 

"Eh?"  I  said  sharply. 

But  the  wretched  child  wouldn't  tell  me  another 
thing.  Not  that  it  needed  much  telling.  When  they 
were  together,  which  was  practically  all  the  time,  one 
could  have  cut  the  atmosphere  with  a  piece  of  wedding 


110  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

silver  it  was  so  thick  and  soft.  When  their  eyes  met 
suddenly  it  made  my  heart  jump  and  I  wanted  to  cry. 
It  was  lovely,  lovely!  And  she  said  so  little  about  it 
that  I  knew  it  must  be  serious. 

One  day  in  the  garden  at  San  Remo,  where  we  now 
spent  much  of  our  time,  she  asked  him  to  pick  her  a 
rose  which  was  growing  just  out  of  her  reach,  but  not 
out  of  his.  It  delighted  her  to  confirm  his  superior 
height,  and  she  did  it  at  every  conceivable  opportunity. 
He  reached  the  rose  easily  and  she  gave  him  her  little 
gold  penknife,  which  she  had  been  using  to  gather  a 
bouquet,  to  cut  the  stem  with.  It  was  a  beautiful  knife, 
with  her  name  on  it  in  diamonds,  a  most  characteristic 
gift  from  her  father. 

"By  jove,  what  a  jolly  one !"  said  the  duke. 

"Keep  it,  Sandy,"  said  Peaches. 

And  while  he  smiled  his  protest  she  fastened  it  to 
his  watch  chain  by  the  little  ring  through  the  end. 

"Oh,  don't  do  that!"  I  cried,  getting  to  my  feet. 
"Don't  give  a  knife!  I  am  not  in  the  least  addicted  to 
superstitions,  but  really  you  must  not  give  him  a 
knife!" 

"I'll  give  her  a  penny  for  it,  Miss  Talbot,"  said  he. 
"That  makes  it  quite  all  right,  you  know." 

And  laughingly  she  took  the  coin  and  slipped  it 
inside  her  girdle.  I  found  it  there  that  night,  and  it 
had  made  an  ugly  red  mark  which  must  have  been 
painful.  But  girls  are  such  absurdly  sentimental  things 
that  it  is  quite — quite,  well,  charming.  And  as  for 
the  little  gold  knife,  we  had  later  good  cause  to  re- 
member that  it  was  in  his  possession. 

What  a  gay  month  it  was !  Such  festas,  such  expedi- 
tions into  the  country,  such  evenings  of  excitement, 
with  the  beautiful  romance  between  Alicia  and  the 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  111 

duke  weaving  in  and  out  through  all  our  adventures 
like  a  golden  thread  in  a  bright  embroidery !  The  duke 
was  as  care  free  and  gorgeous  a  lover  as  any  princess 
could  have  desired. 

Only  two  things  marred  what  would  otherwise  have 
been  a  perfect  period,  and  one  was  the  absurd  way 
in  which  Abby  set  her  cap  for  Mr.  Pegg.  The  other 
was  my  personal  discomfort  in  becoming  accustomed 
to  the  strait-jacket  furnished  by  the  corsetiere  to  whom 
Abby  sent  me.  But  the  effect  unquestionably  justified 
the  means,  and  they  did  make  me  look  younger.  Not 
that  Mr.  Pegg  seemed  to  observe  the  circumstances. 
He  was  monopolized  in  the  most  outrageous  way  by 
that  unscrupulous  cousin  of  mine.  Not  that  I  cared 
in  the  least,  but  the  way  men  can  be  taken  in  by  a  lot 
of  falderals  and  clothes  and  artificial  aids  to  beauty 
is  certainly  astonishing;  and  Abby  made  no  scruple  of 
using  them  all.  Indeed,  she  was  a  most  worldly  woman 
and  was  infecting  us  all  with  her  worldliness.  Per- 
haps the  culmination  of  this  tendency  occurred  at  a 
garden  party  which  she  gave,  and  at  which  a  great 
many  things  happened  that  had  far-reaching  conse- 
quences. 

I  may  say  at  once  that  wine  was  one  of  the  primary 
causes  for  the  phenomenon  which  developed  during 
the  course  of  the  evening.  I  recall  that  my  dear 
father  had  a  very  concise  philosophy  concerning  wine 
and  its  effect  upon  the  human  system,  though,  of 
course,  the  feminine  portion  of  his  household  never  par- 
took of  it  with  the  possible  exception  of  a  glass  of  port 
at  Christmas ;  or  a  portion  of  gin  upon  the  occasion  of 
a  fainting  spell,  when  it  was  considered  most  beneficial 
in  its  medicinal  effect.  But  outside  of  its  uses  as  a 
restorative  for  the  vapors,  we  never  used  it,  and  I  may 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


state  in  the  interests  of  accuracy  that  though  my 
father  referred  to  the  substance  which  he  imbibed  in 
the  masculine  seclusion  of  the  dining  room  after  the 
departure  of  the  ladies  as  "wine,"  it  was  in  truth  rum, 
imported  direct  from  Jamacia,  in  which  he  indulged, 
if  indeed  so  lax  a  term  may  be  properly  employed  in 
connection  with  him.  Nevertheless,  "wine"  was  a  sort 
of  generic  term  with  him  for  all  alcoholic  stimulants, 
and  he  believed  in  its  judicious  usage  and  even  quoted 
from  the  Old  Testament  in  its  behalf,  referring  in  par- 
ticular and  most  frequently  to  the  incident  of  Noah's 
having  planted  a  vineyard  immediately  upon  the  oppor- 
tunity for  so  doing  having  arisen. 

"Wine,"  my  dear  father  would  often  remark,  espe- 
cially when  in  argument  with  our  worthy  pastor  —  the 
subject  was  often  debated  between  them  —  '"wine  is  the 
immemorial  link  which  man  has  made  with  which 
to  hitch  himself  to  the  gods;  it  is  the  weak  man's 
courage,  the  poor  man's  wealth,  the  coward's  glory 
and  the  failure's  apology.  Through  wine  man  be- 
comes the  things  he  dreams  of  being  —  great,  strong, 
powerful.  The  grape  absorbs  the  sun,  and  the  wine 
puts  sunshine  into  men's  hearts;  without  it  the  world 
would  begin  to  look  for  vices  to  take  the  place  of 
conviviality." 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  we  were  reared  in  a  proper 
attitude  toward  Bacchus  —  indulging  mildly  ourselves, 
but  properly  condemning  any  misuse  on  the  part  of  our 
neighbors.  Of  course  we  knew  how  to  use  it,  but 
so,  too,  did  we  know  how  to  act  toward  those  weaker 
ones  who  could  not  discriminate  between  discretion  and 
.Saturday  night. 

This  is  not  a  digression.     It  is  rather  an  explana- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  US 

tion  of  how  and  why  I  came  to  be  a  participant  in  the- 
festival  which  Abby  gave  in  the  gardens  of  her  villa 
at  San  Remo. 

Up  to  the  date  of  her  entertainment  I  had  never 
touched  a  drop  of  any  alcoholic  stimulant  except  in 
poundcake  or  ignited  upon  plum  pudding,  partially 
because  I  had  not  felt  that  my  dear  father's  disserta- 
tions applied  to  the  gentler  sex  but  were  intended  prin- 
cipally for  what  Peaches  was  wont  to  term  an  "alibi" 
for  his  own. 

But  in  Europe  things  were  so  different.  Women 
smoked  without  loss  of  reputation,  and  even  mere 
babes  were  Driven  claret  in  their  drinking  water  in 
the  superstition  that  it  prevented  fever  or  bowlegs, 
I  forget  which.  At  any  rate  the  taboo  was  lifted — 
I  mean  the  lid,  again  to  quote  my  charge — and  being 
so  near  Rome  I  thought  it  no  harm  to  do  as  the,  as  it 
were,  Romans  did. 

And  hard  indeed  must  the  heart  have  been  to  re- 
fuse any  part  of  the  conviviality  upon  such  a  night  as 
this  was.  The  moon  was  marvelous  beyond  words. 
All  the  flowers  in  the  world  seemed  to  have  gathered 
together  in  that  little  pleasance  between  the  gleaming 
whitewashed,  vine-burdened  walls.  Lanterns  hung 
like  strings  of  dull  golden  moons  from  tree  to  tree. 
Dear  Mr.  Pegg  walking  with  me  beneath  them  com- 
pared them  most  poetically  to  oranges. 

"Almost  as  big  as  Golden  Americans !"  he  exclaimed 
jokingly. 

Below  us,  down  the  moon-swept  hillside,  lay  the 
Mediterranean,  reflecting  the  mystery  and  romance 
of  Italy  almost,  as  it  were,  audibly.  And  audible  also, 
but  not  too  violently  so,  was  the  gayly  costumed  or- 
chestra which  sang  as  it  played,  and  swayed  with  the 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


rhythm  of  its  own  music.  There  were  uniforms  and 
beautiful  dresses  everywhere,  picked  out  and  accent- 
uated by  the  sombre  formal  clothes  of  the  civilians. 
Indoors  there  was  laughter  and  dancing.  The  ballroom 
was  a  pool  of  yellow  light  in  which  the  dancers  seemed 
to  swim  in  a  melted  sweetness  of  sound.  Every  one 
was  gay.  I  was  gay  because  of  that  lovely  romantic 
reference  of  Mr.  Pegg's  to  the  lanterns.  And  then  a 
series  of  events  rose'  out  of  which  my  gayety  seemed 
curiously  to  increase. 

I  was  sitting  outside  alone,  my  escort,  Sir  Anthony, 
having  gone  off  to  speak  to  some  one,  when  I  saw 
Peaches  and  the  duke  emerge  laughingly  from  the  ball- 
room. I  have  often  seen  her  beautiful,  but  never  so 
beautiful  as  on  this  occasion.  She  was  clad  in  an 
amber  satin  gown  of  the  exact  hue  of  her  marvelous 
hair,  and  her  only  ornament  was  a  huge  string  of  am- 
ber beads.  She  looked  like  the  incarnation  of  all  the 
gold  and  sunshine  of  her  native  State,  and  the  duke 
was  gazing  upon  her  in  a  way  that  sent  shivers  up 
and  down  my  back.  They  came  along  the  path  slowly, 
utterly  absorbed  in  each  other.  The  dance  music  in- 
side had  ceased  and  the  orchestra  was  singing  again  — 
a  sweet  agony  of  sound  with  the  ancient  words  : 
O  dolce  Napoli! 

The  lovers  passed  into  the  darkness  just  beyond 
me  —  the  darkness  pulsating  with  that  utterly  unre- 
pressed  foreign  music.  And  then  somebody  opened  an 
upper  window,  from  which  came  a  ray  of  light.  It 
lifted  the  heads  of  the  two  out  of  their  seclusion  as 
though  with  a  knife.  But  they  were  oblivious  of  it. 
Never  have  I  hoped  —  I  mean,  expected  —  to  witness 
anything  like  those  two  blind  faces  pressed  together. 
They  were  mouth  to  mouth,  immovable,  like  Rodin's 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  115 

statue.  There  is  something  very  terrible  in  seeing 
a  thing  like  that — in  seeing  something  which  even  the 
participants  close  their  eyes  upon.  I  staggered  to  my 
feet  and  made  a  run  for  the  house — as  efficient  a 
run  as  my  new  high-heeled  slippers  would  permit,  and 
there  encountered  Sir  Anthony  on  the  terrace. 

"Miss  Talbot !"  he  exclaimed.  "You  look  quite  up- 
set! Allow  me  to  get  you  a  glass  of  wine!" 

"I  am  upset — but  oh,  so  happy!"  I  exclaimed. 

But  I  accepted  the  wine.  It  was  a  very  mild  yellow 
fluid  which  tickled  the  throat  pleasingly  and,  far  from 
administering  any  shock  to  the  system  such  as  I  had 
anticipated,  it  seemed  to  have  no  effect  whatsoever  be- 
yond creating  a  feeling  of  thirst.  I  took  a  second  glass, 
which  only  increased  my  need,  and  as  it  was  so  light 
and  harmless  I  partook  of  a  third. 

I  then  began  to  realize  more  fully  what  a  truly  de- 
lightful evening  we  were  having,  and  even  whispered 
to  my  escort  that  I  had  good  reason  for  believing  that 
Peaches  and  her  Sandy  were  engaged.  I  even  called 
him  Sandy,  I  recall.  Sir  Anthony  at  once  proposed 
that  we  drink  their  health — quite  between  ourselves, 
of  course.  Which  we  proceeded  to  do,  and  followed 
it  by  drinking  that  of  Nedra,  a  race  horse  belonging 
to  His  Lordship,  which  was  to — er — perform  in  some 
race  on  the  morrow. 

And  after  that  my  memory  becomes  a  trifle  dimmed, 
except  for  dancing  with  dear  Mr.  Pegg.  It  was  a 
species  of  quadrille,  I  recall,  except  that  we  seemed  to 
be  doing  it  alone.  There  was  great  applause,  so  it 
must  have  been  successful,  and  I  remember  Cousin 
Abby  exclaiming,  "Just  see  what  Europe  does  for  us 
Boston  girls!"  but  that  was  only  her  jealousy  be- 
cause of  Mr.  Pegg5 s  stealing  my  slipper. 


116  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

My  entire  being  was  diffused  with  a  marvelous 
sense  of  well-being,  and  I  made  an  engagement  to 
ride  muleback  with  Sir  Anthony  next  morning  at  ten 
o'clock — indeed  to  ride  with  him  at  ten  precisely  every 
morning  for  the  remainder  of  our  sojourn  upon  the 
Riviera.  And  this  was  the  more  remarkable  inasmuch 
as  I  had  never  ridden  upon  any  animal  whatsoever  and 
have  a  peculiar  aversion  to  mules.  But  at  the  time 
nothing  seemed  difficult.  It  was  a  wonderful  night. 

I  completely  forgot  my  charge;  or  when  I  thought 
of  her  at  all  it  was  only  to  recall  that  she  was  in 
safe  hands,  if  not  arms,  and  to  pursue  my  own  amuse- 
ment. Then  abruptly  and  most  annoyingly  the  party 
was  over.  I  can't  think  why  they  wanted  to  end  it. 
I,  for  one,  was  not  in  the  least  ready  to  go  home.  But 
once  out  in  the  open  air  I  had  a  dim  realization  that 
all  was  not  quite  well  with  me.  I  became  possessed 
of  a  sudden  desire  to  be  alone,  and  a  distaste  for  al- 
lowing either  Peaches  or  her  father  to  see  me  until  I 
was  in  some  way  different  from  the  way  I  was  at  the 
moment.  And  actuated  by  this  motive  I  managed 
with  uncanny  cunning  to  elude  my  party  and  find  our 
automobile  ahead  of  the  other  members  of  the  family. 
Richard,  the  chauffeur,  was  sitting  in  it  alone,  and  I 
begged  him  for  assistance. 

"Dicky,"  I  said,  "I  want  to  go  right  back  to  the 
hotel  an'  get  my  handkerfish.  You  take  me,  and  come 
back  for  the  resh." 

"Lit  to  the  eyelids !"  exclaimed  Richard. 

I  haven't  the  faintest  idea  of  what  the  boy  meant, 
but  he  was  most  helpful,  I  will  say  that.  He  got  me 
into  the  car,  and  somehow  we  reached  the  hotel.  The 
wind  in  my  face  had  revived  me  and  I  managed  by  the 
exercise  of  great  dignity  to  give  a  sufficient  appearance 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  117 

of  self-reliance.  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  left  me  with 
reluctance,  but  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  hurry  back 
at  once  for  Mr.  Pegg. 

I  experienced  no  difficulty  in  reaching  my  floor  of 
the  hotel,  but  once  there  I  realized  to  my  annoyance 
that  I  had  forgotten  my  key.  I  somehow  disliked  the 
idea  of  calling  upon  the  office  for  assistance,  and  deter- 
mined to  chance  the  door  being  unlocked.  It  was 
possible  at  any  rate. 

The  corridor  was  a  long  one — altogether  too  long 
and  with  too  many  doors  in  it.  I  remember  thinking 
Mr.  Pegg  ought  to  speak  to  the  management  about  it 
in  the  morning.  But  after  some  hesitation  I  selected 
my  own  door,  opened  it  without  difficulty  and  entered, 
to  face  the  two  rascals  of  men  whom  I  had  trippd  up  in 
the  London  theater. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  my  room?"  I  demanded. 

"Madam,  this  is  not  your  room,"  said  the  one  with 
the  mustache.  And  as  he  spoke  I  dimly  realized  that 
though  it  was  an  hour  when  most  persons  are  in  bed, 
both  were  dressed — even  to  hats  and  gloves.  And 
they  seemed  profoundly  disturbed  at  my  appearance. 

"It  is  my  room!"  I  insisted,  sitting  down  by  the 
door,  which  remained  open.  "It's  my  room,  and  I'd 
like  you  to  explain  what  you  are  doing  in  it." 

"Madam,"  said  the  other  imploringly,  "you  are 
mistaken.  I  assure  you  this  room  is  ours.  I  can 
prove  it " 

"I  don't  want  to  dispute  you,"  I  replied  with  dignity, 
"but  leave  my  room  at  once!" 

I  don't  know  how  long  we  sat  there  arguing  but 
it  seemed  like  months.  And  then  all  at  once  I  heard 
Peaches'  voice  behind  me. 

"Good  heavens!     What  are  you  doing  there,  Free 


118 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Talbot?"  she  said,  striding  in  and  seizing  me  by  the 
shoulder. 

"I'm  trying  to  put  these  brigands  out  of  my  room !" 
I  said.  "Don't  interfere,  my  dear!" 

"But  it's  not  your  room!"  shrieked  Peaches.  "Oh, 
pa,  come  help  me  to  get  my  chaperon  out  of  these 
strange  men's  room!" 

Mr.  Pegg  was  close  behind  her,  and  as  she  spoke  I 
realized  that  she  was  quite  right.  I  got  up  with 
dignity  and  left,  accompanied  by  the  Peggs,  and  the 
next  thing  I  knew  somebody  was  putting  ice  on  my 
forehead,  and  it  needed  it. 

I  opened  my  eyes,  feeling  very  ill,  and  there  was 
Peaches,  in  street  clothes.  It  was  broad  noon  and  she 
had  been  crying.  I  felt  as  though  I — as  though  all 
of  us — had  been  going  through  vast  experiences  of 
misery  for  ages  and  ages.  With  a  tremendous  effort 
I  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture  in  the  bed,  and  ad- 
dressed my  charge. 

"Peaches,"  I  said,  "I  saw  you  kissing  that  young 
man  last  night!  Now,  my  dear,  though  I  feel  very 
ill  this  morning — I  think  I  must  have  eaten  something 
at  Abby's  last  night  that  disagreed  with  me — still,  I 
am  well  enough  to  protest  at  your  behavior !" 

Peaches  stared  at  me  for  a  moment  and  then  burst 
into  unaccountable  laughter. 

"Free!"  she  said.  "I  hope  we  can  get  you  home  a 
fit  woman  to  take  up  your  foreign  missions  work. 
We'll  have  no  back  talk  from  you  to-day!" 

And  then  she  suddenly  burst  into  tears,  throwing 
herself  on  the  bed  and  sobbing  hysterically.  Now 
thoroughly  alarmed  I  forgot  my  own  wretchedness  and 
comforted  her  as  best  I  could. 

"My  dear,  my  dear!"  I  said.     "Don't  take  on  so! 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  119 

What  if  you  did  kiss  him?  There  is  no  real  harm 
done!  You  love  each  other!  You  can  be  married 
soon.  You  have  everything  in  the  world  to  be  happy 
about!" 

Slowly  Peaches  straightened  up  to  her  glorious 
height  and  dried  her  eyes  on  the  cold  towel  from  my 
head. 

"Free,"  she  sniffed,  "Sandy  has  gone!  Gone,  do 
you  get  that?  After  our  promising  to  marry  each 
other,  after  his  dating  up  Pa  to  talk  it  over  this  after- 
noon, after  promising  to  come  and  take  me  to  lunch 
and  to  buy  a  ring  this  noon — gone  without  a  word  ex- 
cept this." 

Dramatically  she  handed  me  a  note  written  in  a 
clear  firm  hand.  I  read  it  as  well  as  my  throbbing 
head  would  allow. 

"Dear  Alicia:  I  regret  that  I  shall  be  unable  to  keep 
my  engagement.  Unforeseen  circumstances  have 
arisen  which  make  me  realize  I  have  been  living  in  a 
fool's  paradise.  Forgive  me  and  God  bless  you. 

SANDRO  DI  MONTEVENTI." 

"His  things  are  gone  from  his  hotel,"  she  said 
bitterly.  "He's  not  coming  back !" 

"Nonsense!"  I  said  as  vigorously  as  Nature  per- 
mitted. "Nonsense.  No  man  could  have  got  such  a 
kiss  and  forgotten  it.  Once  engaged  to  you,  always 
engaged  to  you.  Peaches — he'll  be  back  this  evening." 

"If  he  does  it'll  be  in  chains!"  said  Peaches.  "You 
see,  he  shot  a  man  at  the  depot — winged  him  as  the 
train  moved  out.  It  was  your  friend  of  the  black 
mustache  whom  you  were  visiting  with  last  night!" 


VIII 

ONE  of  the  most  annoying  things  which  the  out- 
break of  the  war  of  1914  did  was  to  completely  ruin 
our  tour  of  Europe. 

We  had  planned  to  visit  Belgium,  where  Mr.  Pegg 
intended  to  launch  some  citrus  project  or  other,  and 
afterward  make  a  tour  of  Germany.  And,  of  course, 
that  ungentlemanly,  uncalled-for  war  entirely  upset 
our  plans.  To  say  that  it  was  an  annoyance  is  to  put 
it  mildly.  I  was  terribly  provoked,  especially  as  my 
collection  of  the  flora  of  Europe  was  far  from  com- 
plete. I  had  been  gathering  specimens  whenever  op- 
portunity afforded,  pressing  them,  and  pasting  them 
in  a  blank  book.  Then  T  would  write  in  the  proper 
names,  both  Latin  and  popular,  in  a  neat  lettering  of 
black  ink  picked  out  with  red.  It  promised  to  be  a 
most  interesting  souvenir  of  my  trip  and  was  in- 
tended as  a  gift  for  Euphemia.  But  the  interruption 
of  this  small  personal  enterprise  was,  of  course,  only 
one  of  the  many  annoyances  which  the  outbreak  of 
the  war  occasioned. 

It  was  terrible  that  Peaches  should  be  cut  off  in 
the  midst  of  her  education,  and  terrible,  too,  that  I 
should  have  the  prospect  of  a  return  to  Boston  staring 
me  in  the  face.  Also  Peaches  needed  diversion.  Ever 
since  the  disappearance  of  the  duke  she  had  drooped 
like  a — well  like  a  eucalyptus  tree,  let  us  say,  though 
she,  who  as  a  rule  was  so  free  in  pouring  out  exact 
statements  regarding  her  inmost  emotions,  was  abso- 

120 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  121 

lutely  silent  on  this  most  interesting  subject.  I  had 
fully  expected  that  she  would  make  a  sort  of  confessor 
of  me  and  postpone  my  nightly  slumbers  to  the  point 
of  ultimate  endurance  upon  every  possible  occasion,  as 
she  had  during  what  I  may  call  the  chauffeur  epoch, 
when  she  imagined  herself  in  love  with  Richard.  But 
from  the  day  of  the  duke's  disappearance  she  became 
singularly  reticent  about  her  emotions,  and  as  is  al- 
ways the  case  with  a  woman  who  refuses  to  allow 
herself  to  talk,  it  made  her  quite  ill,  though  she  kept 
up  and  about  and  all  that. 

Mr.  Pegg,  Abby  and  myself  consulted  about  what 
was  the  best  course  to  take,  and  after  failing  utterly 
to  elicit  any  information  from  the  police  regarding  the 
crime,  if  any,  of  which  our  gallant  Sandy  was  ac- 
cused, we  tried  the  government  officials,  the  Ameri- 
can consul,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  drive  to  the 
homestead  of  the  Monteventi,  in  hope  of  obtaining  a 
clew  as  to  what  had  caused  this  mysterious  perform- 
ance. But  in  no  direction  was  any  information  to  be 
gained. 

The  castle  of  the  missing  duke  was  closed — a  deso- 
late, half -ruined  place  it  was — the  villagers  proved  as 
dumb  as  the  authorities,  and  we  concluded  that  they 
were  so  for  the  same  reason — to  wit,  because  they 
knew  nothing.  If  only  some  definite  fact  concerning 
Sandro  could  have  been  ascertained  even  though  it 
had  been  to  his  detriment,  Alicia's  mind  would  have 
been  given  an  opportunity  at  least  of  escaping  the 
thought  of  him  by  a  definite  rejection.  The  terrible 
uncertainty  of  the  cause  of  his  action  was  what 
troubled  her  the  most,  I  felt  sure. 

But  having  failed  to  gain  any  real  information  we 
had  simply  to  conclude  that  either  Sandro  was  mixed 


122  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

up  in  some  private  feud  or  that  the  police  were  just 
too  reticent  for  anything.  Foreign  police  are  that 
way — not  a  bit  like  democratic  America,  where,  Rich- 
ard, the  chauffeur,  assured  me,  the  police  statements 
to  the  newspapers  are  the  native  criminals'  most 
reliable  source  of  information. 

Well,  at  any  rate,  as  we  could  get  hold  of  nothing 
to  tell  Peaches  either  for  her  comfort  or  disillusion- 
ment we  conspired  for  her  diversion.  And  just  as  I 
had  arranged  to  take  her  upon  an  exhaustive  tour  of 
the  cathedral  towns  of  Germany  that  annoying  war 
broke  out  and  spoiled  everything.  A  rush  of  apprecia- 
tion of  America  seemed  all  at  once  to  overwhelm  even 
the  most  ardent  tourists,  and  Mr.  Pegg  did  not  escape 
being  affected  by  the  contagion.  With  his  usual  de- 
cisiveness we  were  told  to  pack  for  home,  and  then  I 
was  summoned  for  the  private  interview  with  him 
which  I  knew  was  inevitable,  and  to  which  I  looked 
forward  with  dread,  as  it  could  hardly  mean  anything 
except  my  return  ticket  to  Boston. 

We  were  at  Nice  at  the  moment  and  Mr.  Pegg 
awaited  my  coming  upon  the  balcony  of  the  royal  suite 
of  the  hotel.  He  was  chewing  a  cigar  and  very  seri- 
ous about  it — our  interview,  that  is.  As  I  appeared  he 
gave  me  a  curious  look  which  took  me  in  from  my 
newly  waved  hair  to  the  tips  of  my  high-heeled 
slippers,  and  I  do  verily  believe  that  he  observed  them 
for  the  first  time.  My  dear  father  used  to  say  that 
men  always  see  things  suddenly  or  not  at  all,  and 
this  was  one  of  those  cases.  Mr.  Pegg  always  saw 
very  clearly  what  was  going  on  in  his  own  mind,  but 
perception  of  outside  things  seemed  to  be,  as  it  were, 
cumulative. 

However,  though  he  made  no  remark  upon  my  ap- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  123 

pearance  I  saw  him  change  his  mind  about  something 
or  other  in  the  transparent  manner  so  common  in 
men,  and  he  abandoned  the  overworked  cigar. 

"Miss  Talbot,"  he  began,  "in  a  couple  of  hours 
more  or  less  we  are  going  to  be  in  the  refugee,  or 
immigrant  class,  because  we  are  fortunate  enough  to 
be  able  to  go  home  steerage,  which  is  a  damn  sight 
better  than  not  going  home  at  all.  And  what  I  mean  to 
say  is  that  I  think  it  would  be  awfully  good  for  you 
to  spend  a  few  months  in  California.  It  would  sort  of 
round  out  your  European  experiences  by  giving  you  a 
real  genuine  standard  of  comparison — show  you  a 
country  worth  talking  about.  So  I  suggest  that  you 
stick  by  this  outfit  and  take  a  little  graft  of  Boston  cul- 
ture out  to  the  home  ranch  for  us,  where  maybe  we 
can  improve  some  of  the  wild  stock  with  it." 

This  was  so  different  from  what  I  had  anticipated 
— the  polite  apology  for  the  war's  having  interfered 
with  our  trip  and  being  so  sorry  that  we  must  part, 
and  so  on  — that  I  could  not  refrain  from  an  outburst 
of  appreciation. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Pegg!"  I  exclaimed,  clasping  my  hands 
in  delight.  "How  truly  wonderful!  Indeed,  I  shall 
be  most  pleased  to  remain  in  your  employ  and  to 
see  Golden  California.  The  more  especially  as  dear 
Alicia  needs  me  to  look  after  her  in  her  affliction!  I 
accept !" 

"Good!"  said  Mr.  Pegg,  beginning  upon  a  fresh 
cigar,  a  sure  sign  that  our  business  was  at  an  end. 
"Good!  And  you  can  get  a  lot  of  specimens  for  that 
dried-flower  morgue  of  yours  out  there,  too,  if  the 
Germans  don't  put  us  to  picking  seaweed  instead,  on 
the  way  home !" 

But  the  Germans  didn't. 


124  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Abandoning  Europe  was  a  relief  for  many  reasons. 
There  was  Cousin  Abby,  whom  we  left  behind,  for 
one  thing,  and  I  confess  I  admired  her  attitude  and 
encouraged  it.  You  see  she  had  been  traveling  with 
us,  and  Mr.  Pegg  had  quite  unnecessarily,  I  thought, 
offered  to  get  her  back  to  America.  But  Abby  was 
firm  in  her  refusal.  A  strange  fiery  look  came  into 
her  eyes  and  her  head  went  up  like — like  a  battle 
horse,  I  do  declare. 

"No,  thanks  awf'ly,  old  dear!"  she  said.  "But  I'm 
off  to  San  Remo.  That's  home  now.  I've  lived  there 
twenty  years  and  it's  part  of  me.  We'll  go  into  this 
war  any  day,  and  somebody  has  to  be  there  to  see  that 
it's  on  the  side  of  the  Allies !" 

It  was  extremely  noble  of  her,  or,  as  Peaches  put 
it,  thoroughly  sporting.  And  so  she  left  us,  and  we 
all  upheld  her  in  so  doing,  I'm  sure.  It  was  a  fine 
sacrifice  and  we  all  admire  the  spectacle  of  a  sacrifice, 
especially  when  some  close  friend  is  making  it,  if  you 
understand  me. 

!  Well,  so  much  for  the  war.  At  least  so  far  as  it  con- 
cerned us  for  a  long  time.  The  next  phase  which 
directly  affects  my  story  is  my  own  first  impression  of 
the  golden  state,  which  began  of  course  when  our  train 
left  Chicago  on  the  Santa  Fe.  I  don't  know  why,  but 
the  West  seems  to  reach  East  that  far.  Perchance  I 
am  mistaken  and  the  Western  influence  really  begins 
at  Buffalo,  but  at  that  point  I  was  not  in  a  state  of 
mind  to  make  the  usual  traveler's  observations,  being 
wholly  obsessed  with  the  problem  of  trying  to  obtain  a 
little  privacy  in  a  sleeping  car.  After  the  first  night 
I  entirely  abandoned  the  hope,  and  therefore  was  more 
sensitive  to  other  impressions.  A  great  many  people 
had,  it  seems,  decided  to  go  to  California  that  week, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  125 

and  the  war  had  necessitated  Mr.  Pegg's  immediate 
return  to  the  coast,  as  he  called  it,  though  I  would  have 
said  we  had  landed  upon  the  only  real  coast — well,  at 
any  rate,  he  had  to  go  on  at  once,  and  Peaches  insisted 
that  we  all  go  with  him,  but  we  were  unable  to  obtain 
staterooms,  and  Mr.  Pegg's  attempt  to  buy  up  an  entire 
car  was  a  complete  failure.  Indeed  he  was  able  to  get 
only  three  lower  berths,  with  the  result  that  Richard, 
the  chauffeur,  was  parked  above  me.  The  term  is  his 
own.  I  should  have  said,  to  follow  out  his  chosen 
symbolism,  that  he  was  parked,  but  with  the  engine 
running,  and  not  too  well  throttled  down,  either.  In 
other  words,  he  snored ;  and  I  think  I  have  mentioned 
that  he  had  an  extremely  competent  nose.  Of  course 
that  trip  in  the  steerage  had  inured  me  somewhat  to 
hardship,  but  I  had  not  anticipated  that  America  would 
be  so  quickly  affected  by  the  war — or  so  slow  in 
noticing  that  it  was  affected. 

At  any  rate,  my  real  observations  did  not  begin 
until  we  left  Chicago  behind  us,  and  then,  not  unnat- 
urally, the  first  thing  I  observed  was  Peaches'  extraor- 
dinary behavior. 

She  was  not  flirting.  The  fact  speaks  for  itself 
and  gains  in  importance  when  I  make  mention  of  the 
circumstance  that  there  were  no  less  than  two  very 
attractive  strange  men  in  our  car,  and  that  one  of 
them  was  a  well-known  motion-picture  actor.  But 
Peaches  paid  them  absolutely  no  attention  despite 
that  before  we  were  two  hours  out  Richard  was  growl- 
ing at  them  like  an  angry  watchdog — usually  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  Peaches  to  exercise  her  love  of  tor- 
menting him.  Instead  she  sat  by  the  window  and 
stared  out  into  the  swift-moving  blackness. 

Mr.  Pegg  at  once  disappeared  into  a  den  where  I 


126  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

have  a  deep-rooted  suspicion  some  sort  of  card  game 
was  in  progress,  and  he  hardly  reappeared  again,  ex- 
cept for  food,  during  the  remainder  of  the  trip. 

At  any  rate  the  lack  of  necessity  for  actively  chap- 
eroning my  charge  left  me  free  to  make  notes  upon  that 
part  of  America  which  was  foreign  to  me.  Indeed,  I 
was  glad  of  the  opportunity,  for  though  I  had  been 
several  times  from  Boston  to  Plymouth,  and  had  once 
visited  an  aunt  in  Philadelphia,  I  felt  there  was  yet 
much  of  my  native  land  for  me  to  see.  And  there 
was.  Very  much. 

How  very,  very  much  I  had  really  no  conception  in 
advance,  nor  can  any  language  adequately  describe  it. 
To  do  so  would  be  like  reading  the  unabridged  dic- 
tionary aloud.  Indeed,  the  term  "unabridged"  is  the 
only  one  which  conveys  any  sense  of  the  country  one 
crosses.  And  it  was  so  amazing  to  find  it  really  ex- 
isted. One  had  been  told  about  Kansas  plains  and 
the  northern  Arizona  deserts,  but  the  statements  made 
by  travelers  were  somehow  not  convincing.  Nobody's 
statements  about  travel  ever  are.  But  now  I  saw  those, 
as  I  may  call  them,  illimitable  spaces  and  stupendous 
mountains.  There  were  actually  Indians !  Upon  my 
word  of  honor,  though  not  nearly  so  realistic  as  the 
ones  who  used  to  sell  worm  medicine  in  Bigelo's  drug 
store  window  on  Bank  Street.  Still  they  were  un- 
doubtedly genuine,  and  even  accepted  a  little  money 
from  me  at  Albuquerque.  It  was  most  thrilling. 

I  felt  singularly  small  and  incompetent  and  ignorant, 
whirling  along  through  this  infinite  territory.  It  made 
me  ashamed,  curiously  enough,  to  realize  that  I  had 
ever  thought  that  the  original  thirteen  colonies  were 
America ;  that  I  had  actually  once  entertained  the  sup- 
position that  that  portion  of  the  country  situated  west 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  127 

of  Buffalo  was  something  to  be  vaguely  apologetic  for ! 
It  made  Europe  seem  small  and  insignificant,  with 
its  toy  railways  and  funny  little  huddled  towns  and 
neatly  apportioned  fields — even  its  terrible  present 
situation;  or  rather  made  America  seem  enormously 
safe,  sane  and  resourceful. 

I  had  always  been  proud  of  being  a  New  Englander, 
and  now  I  began  to  be  impressed  with  the  stupendous 
fact  of  being  an  American.  In  one  thing  only  was  I 
disappointed. 

My  dear  father  used  to  say  that  absence  made  the 
heart  grow  fonder  because  there  was  no  reality  pres- 
ent to  hamper  the  imagination.  And  I  believe  that 
this  must  be  particularly  true  of  Calif ornians. 

All  during  my  time  with  them  in  Europe,  indeed 
since  my  joining  them,  I  had  heard  little  comment  on 
anything  European  from  either  Peaches  or  her  father 
except  in  disparaging  comparison  to  the  Calif ornian 
equivalent.  And  now  upon  the  train,  from  the  mo- 
ment of  our  departure  from  the  Grand  Central  Term- 
inal, everything  I  admired  elicited  a  chorused  response, 
"Wait  until  you  see  California!" 

Naturally  I  waited.  In  the  nature  of  things  I  could 
not  do  otherwise.  But  happily  the  railroad  train  did 
not.  Meanwhile  I  existed  in  excited  anticipation  of  a 
degree  scarcely  to  be  endured.  Never  shall  I  forget 
the  first  morning  when  casaba  melons  appeared  in  the 
dining  car,  and  Peaches  and  Mr.  Pegg  exchanged  a 
half -pleased,  half -contemptuous  glance  over  the  first 
spoonful.  To  me  it  tasted  like  nectar  but 

"Santa  Clara  fruit!"  said  Mr.  Pegg  in  the  same 
tone  in  which  Euphemia  might  have  said  "Those  com- 
mon people!" 


128  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Yes!"  noddgd  Peaches.  "Wait  until  you  have  a 
San  Bernardino  melon,  Free!" 

"Can  it  be  possible  that  California  is  divided  against 
itself?"  I  asked,  aghast. 

"You  said  it!"  spoke  up  Richard,  the  chauffeur, 
who  had  doffed  his  uniform  and  imperceptibly  slipped 
back  into  his  earlier  relationship  with  the  family,  even 
to  the  point  of  eating  with  us;  a  fact  which  seemed 
curiously  without  offense.  "You  said  it,  Aunt  Mary! 
Los  Angeleans  are  the  Smiths  of  California,  and  San 
Franciscans  are  the  Talbots.  And  yet  I  come  from 
Los  Angeles  myself." 

"I  should  say  so,  if  I  get  you  right!"  exclaimed 
Peaches.  "Why,  Free,  southern  California  has  noth- 
ing but  the  climate — absolutely  nothing!  While  San 
Francisco  is  full  of — of " 

"Fogs,"  said  Richard  promptly;  "and  earthquakes!" 

"It  was  a  fire!"  said  Peaches  fiercely. 

"Hey,  you!"  interrupted  Mr.  Pegg,  laying  down 
his  Kansas  City  paper.  "Hey,  you  two — you  was 
both  raised  in  Oroville  ever  since  I  knew  you." 

"But,  dad,  I  don't  want  Free  to  get  a  wrong  idea 
about  the  south,"  replied  Peaches.  "You  know  it's 
just  one  vast  mixture  of  real  estate  and  movie  enter- 
prises." 

"Better  than  living  among  a  lot  of  hop  pickers!" 
retorted  Dick.  "Burning  up  in  summer  and  getting 
your  trees  frozen  in  winter!" 

"Thank  the  Lord !"  said  Mr. .  Pegg  reverently, 
"There  is  some  doubt  as  to  if  I  was  born  in  Santa 
Monica  or  Oroville.  It  has  kep'  me  unprejudiced, 
what  with  owning  orchards  in  both  ends  of  the  State. 
Let  me  tell  you,  Miss  Freedom,  that  our  golden  land 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  129 

is  a  bower  and  a  horn  of  plenty  from  one  end  to  the 
other.  It  is  all  good  enough  for  this  native  son !" 

Now,  of  course,  when  people  discourse  to  you  in 
such  a  fashion  of  any  land  you  expect  it  to  be  green, 
at  least.  You  anticipate  great  groves  of  trees,  wooded 
hills  and  flowery  dales  with  rushing  streams,  o'er- 
hung  with  primrose  and— er — tortillas  and  other  na- 
tive fruits  and  flowers. 

But  California  was  not  green  that  particular  first 
week  in  September.  There  were  not  even  any  trees  to 
be  seen  except  an  occasional  lonely  yellow  clump  of 
cotton-wood  or  a  thin  straggling  line  of  eucalyptus. 
We  were  headed  straight  for  San  Francisco,  and  from 
the  moment  when  we  branched  north  I  looked  in  vain 
for  redwoods  such  as  I  had  seen  pictures  of  in  geog- 
raphy books  and  other  printed  sources  of  information. 
Indeed,  I  began  to  fear  that  there  existed  but  the  one 
redwood  I  had  seen  pictured  and  that  it  was  not  sit- 
uated near  the  railroad  track.  At  the  railroad  stations 
were  a  few  palmettos,  and  as  for  the  rest — brown — 
brown — brown;  burned  hills  and  almost  improperly 
naked  purple  mountains.  It  was  a  shock,  a  disappoint- 
ment beyond  belief.  I  felt  I  had  been  deliberately  mis- 
led and  made  game  of. 

But  Peaches  suddenly  came  to  life.  Her  drooping 
figure  had  straightened  and  her  eyes  glistened.  Her 
eager  golden  head  turned  this  way  and  that.  She 
seemed  to  see  things  in  the  barren  landscape  that  were 
invisible  to  me. 

Her  father,  too,  was  strangely  affected  by  the  fact 
that  we  had  passed  the  State  boundary  line,  and  aban- 
doned his  game,  which  I  discovered  to  have  been  named 
after  a  famous  Boston  confection  called  Black  Jack, 
and  stood  upon  the  rear  platform  in  company  with 


130  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

other  returning  native  sons,  all  looking  eagerly  at — 
something !  The  brown  grass  was  all  I  saw. 

As  for  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  he  had  shed  the 
last  vestige  of  his  servitude  and  he,  too,  seemed  look- 
ing at  something — something  very  beautiful.  And 
then  all  at  once  I  realized  what  it  was.  'When  Cali- 
fornia is  wet  she  is  green  and  they  were  looking  at 
her  through  a  veil  of  happy  tears  that  transfigured  the 
landscape.  I  ventured,  most  delicately,  to  intimate 
my  understanding  to  Peaches,  when  to  my  amazement, 
she  turned  on  me  with  a  laugh. 

"Think  I  want  to  see  it  green?"  she  said.  "Why, 
it's  just  as  beautiful  when  it's  brown!  Just  as  much 
home,  just  as  big  and  bountiful  and  full  of  promise. 
Want  to  see  it  green?  When  the  time  comes.  But 
do  you  always  want  New  England  to  be  green  ?  Don't 
you  ever  want  to  see  it  white?  Well!" 

I  thought  then  that  I  understood,  but  I  didn't.  Not 
until  long  after.  But  as  I  stood  beside  her,  abashed, 
a  gentleman  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  when  he 
first  got  on  the  train  the  evening  before,  and  with 
whom  I  had  had  a  most  pleasant  and  innocent  chat 
without  either  of  us  revealing  our  names,  approached 
us  with  an  expression  of  surprise. 

"Peaches!"  he  exclaimed,  flushing  up  to  the  roots 
of  his  thin  gray  hair.  "How  are  you!" 

"Mr.  Markheim !"  said  my  charge  in  her  turn  aston- 
ished. "When  did  you  get  aboard  ?" 

"I'm  just  up  from  Coronado,"  he  replied.  "Got  on 
last  night !  What  luck  to  find  you !  What  luck,  what 
luck)" 

"This  is  Miss  Talcot,  my  chaperon/'  said  Peaches 
sweetly.  "Meet  Mr.  Sebastian  Markheim,  Free." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  131 

"We  have  already  met  !"  he  exclaimed  blandly.  "But 
I  had  no  idea  that  -  " 


spoke  in  the  observation  car  last  night,"  I  said 
as  primly  as  the  awkward  circumstances  permitted. 

"Free!"  exclaimed  Peaches  severely.  "You  picked 
him  up!  I  tell  you  I'll  breathe  easier  once  I  have  you 
safely  on  the  ranch!" 


IX 

MY  dear  father  used  to  maintain  that  true  love 
seldom  dies  chiefly  because  it  is  so  seldom  born,  which 
I  take  to  be  an  aspersion  upon  the  average  love  affair. 

This  would  scarcely  be  fair  to  widows,  or 
maidens  who  have  been  bereaved  before  betrothal, 
would  it?  For,  of  course,  it  is  conceivable  that  such 
a  one  might  in  time  recover  from  the  shock  of  her 
loss  and  form  a  second  genuine  attachment.  But 
whether  I  was  justified  in  putting  Peaches  into  the 
latter  class  or  not  I  could  not  judge  at  the  time.  Be- 
cause, of  course,  we  should  have  been  extremely  lonely 
on  the  northern  ranch  without  Mr.  Markheim,  espe- 
cially after  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  enlisted,  and  dear 
Mr.  Pegg  began  his  increasingly  frequent  trips  to 
Washington,  where  he  had  something  to  do  with  sup- 
plying the  Army  with  fruit.  The  way  that  man  con- 
stantly ran  over  to  Washington  from  California  was 
simply  too — too — well,  too  Calif ornian  for  words. 
For  the  natives  of  this  region  save  time  in  every  con- 
ceivable fashion,  yet  regard  distance  as  nothing.  He 
spent  almost  all  of  his  time  either  there  or  in  the 
southern  part  of  the  State,  where  his  principal  groves 
of  citrUs  fruit  were  located. 

At  any  rate  we  should  have  been  tremendously  lonely 
on  the  home  ranch  without  Mr.  Markheim.  Really 
I  should  not  have  supposed  that  a  millionaire  could 
be  so  human  or  a  nouveau  riche  so  condescending, 
or  rather,  so  tolerable.  But  I  suppose  his  being  in 

132 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  13S 

love  with  Alicia  had  something  to  do  with  it,  for  before 
we  had  been  twenty-four  hours  at  the  King-Pin  ranch 
I  saw  how  things  were. 

On  account  of  his  name  poor  Mr.  Markheim  took 
no  active  part  in  the  war,  though  I  understand  that 
he  lent  somebody  a  great  deal  of  money — the  Bel- 
gians or  Irish  or  some  one,  I  forget  just  who. 

But  at  any  rate  he  used  to  ride  over  to  our  place 
frequently  every  day  when  it  wasn't  twice  a  day,  and 
at  first  Peaches  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him 
beyond  mere  politeness. 

I  settled  myself  to  watch  the  progress  of  the  affair, 
because  I  do  love  a  lover  even  when  I  don't  like  him, 
and  I  felt  sorry  for  Mr.  Markheim  and  interested 
in  his  attentions  to  Peaches,  though,  of  course,  he  was 
of  an  age  which  would  have  rendered  his  devotion 
to  an  older  woman  far  more  suitable,  and  I  was  con- 
fident that  nothing  could  shake  her  fidelity  to  the 
dear  duke,  that  handsome  and  romantic  rascal — that 
is,  if  he  was  a  rascal,  which  now  seemed  plain  enough. 
But  every  woman  loves  a  rascal  at  some  time  or  an- 
other, and  though  friends  and  family  may  succeed 
in  persuading  her  to  give  him  up  she  goes  on  nursing 
her  fondness  in  secret  just  as  long  as  the  flavor  lasts. 

At  any  rate  Peaches  thought  only  of  Sandro;  that 
was  plain  to  any  woman,  and  though  she  seldom  spoke 
of  him  I  could  see  that  we  never  went  to  the  little 
dust  bin  of  a  town  for  the  mail  but  she  looked  for  a 
letter  in  his  handwriting.  But  she  did  not  discuss  him, 
even  with  me.  And  when  Mr.  Sebastian  came  over 
from  his  toy  ranch  she  would  ride  with  him,  talk 
with  him,  swim  in  our  pool  with  him  or  accept  the 
little  things  he  bought  her  with  a  sweet,  gentle  ac- 


134  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

ceptance  which  brought  me  to  the  verge  of  tears,  it 
was  so  unlike  her  old  fiery  self. 

And  thus  we  dragged  through  a  long,  long  period 
which  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  account  of  our 
particular  affairs — the  period  of  the  war,  in  point  of 
fact.  I  feel  it  is  not  incumbent  upon  me  to  make  a 
record  of  the  war  though  it  occurred  at  this  time, 
inasmuch  as  several  quite  competent  persons,  includ- 
ing Mr.  Wilson  and  the  Associated  Press,  have  cov- 
ered the  matter  pretty  carefully  and  quite  as  accur- 
ately as  I  should,  the  more  especially  as  I  spent  the 
entire  span  of  the  war  in  California,  and  the  Golden 
State  was  curiously  removed  from  any  sense  of  actual 
warfare. 

Not  that  I  mean  to  say  that  we  Calif ornians  were  in 
any  way  lacking  in  patriotism  or  that  we  failed  to  do 
our  part,  for  goodness  knows  we  just  about  fed  the 
entire  nation,  and  prices  didn't  go  up,  either,  the 
way  they  did  in  the  East.  You  could  still  buy  at  pre- 
war prices  in  1918,  and  we  were  so  rich  as  a  com- 
munity that  we  could  do  without  the  scandalous  in- 
creases of  which  we  read  in  our  week-late  New  York 
Sunday  newspapers.  But  what  I  mean  is  that  some- 
how war  seemed  to  belong  to  the  East  rather  than  to 
us.  And  I  think  we  worried  more  over  Mexico  than 
over  Flanders,  and  who  can  blame  us  when  we  were 
so  near  to  Mexico  that  we  could  actually  see  what 
went  on  there?  Or  the  result  of  what  went  on,  at 
least?  And  the  European  war  was  just  like  some 
horrid  rather  unconvincing  nightmare  which  the  East 
had  got  itself  into  and  that  we  had  in  consequence  to 
help  her  out  of. 

Peaches  and  I  ran  the  home  ranch,  and  hardly  left 
it,  after  Richard's  enlistment.  When  I  reflect  upon  our 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  185 

life  there  it  seems  punctuated  by  two  great»events  and 
nothing  else,  though  at  the  time  of  living  through  it 
I  seemed  to  be  in  a  continuous  crisis,  my  upbringing 
crashing  against  my  environment. 

The  first  momentous  occurrence  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred was  news  of  the  duke.  It  came  in  a  letter  from 
Abby,  who  mentioned  him  casually  in  passing.  The 
Chinese  cook  had  brought  the  mail  up  from  Oroville 
and  Peaches  and  I  had  carried  it  outside  to  the  edge 
of  the  sv;imming  pool  which  Mr.  Pegg  had  built  into 
an  angle  of  the  ranch  house,  a  gaunt  white-painted 
frame  building,  very  like  a  big  New  England  farm- 
house, as  are  many  of  the  homesteads  of  northern  Cali- 
fornia. It  was  a  heavenly  mild  late  September  day, 
with  the  barren  hills  turning  faintly  green  already, 
though  the  rains  had  been  tardy  and  scarce,  and  the 
roses  in  the  garden  had  still  to  be  irrigated  regularly. 
The  roads,  hub  deep  with  dust  in  summer,  were  bad 
now,  honeycombed  with  mud  holes,  and  the  mail  was 
late. 

As  I  sat  there  with  a  corduroy  jacket  about  my  shoul- 
ders, my  muddy  boots  heavy  on  my  tired  feet,  and 
held  the  letter  with  the  Italian  postmark  unopened  for 
a  moment  in  my  hands  it  seemed  as  if  the  past  four 
years  were  a  dream,  and  the  scene  before  me  an  utter 
unreality.  At  the  gate  to  the  road  stood  a  pair  of 
orange  trees  upon  which  the  fruit  was  being  left  to 
ripen  for  home  consumption.  The  orchards  were 
stripped  weeks  earlier,  for  we  picked  green  and  sweated 
our  oranges.  Beyond  the  sentinel  trees  with  their  yel- 
low fruit  glowing  like  lanterns  in  the  dark  foliage,  a 
flock  of  runner  ducks  squawked  noisily  in  the  head 
ditch,  which  had  flowed  by  the  house  since  the  early 
days  when  Peaches'  mother  lived  there  and  used  to 


136  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

get  the  water  for  her  household  from  it.  Distantly 
a  file  of  turbaned  Hindu  pickers,  bound  for  a  neigh- 
bor's walnut  grove,  passed,  silhouetted  against  the  sky, 
and  vanished  into  the  more  overbearing  outlines  of  a 
row  of  eucalyptus  trees  upon  the  ridge,  and  a  pair 
of  smartly  overalled,  immaculate  Japanese  laborers 
equipped  like  aviators,  and  gloved  against  the  orange 
thorns,  passed  along  the  road,  chattering  unintelligibly, 
their  picking  equipment  strapped  to  their  shoulders  like 
knapsacks,  their  sturdy  boots  swinging  rhythmically 
to  their  chatter. 

I  could  see  all  this,  and  the  environment,  which  had 
once  been  as  strange  as  a  prism  seen  through  a  kaleido- 
scope, yet  which  was  the  only  reality  I  had  known  for 
four  years,  now  took  on  its  pristine  strangeness  once 
more,  and  the  letter  in  my  hands  brought  a  wave  of 
homesickness  upon  me — not  for  Italy,  but  for  Boston, 
I  scarcely  know  why.  For  several  moments  I  sat  so, 
and  then  at  length  I  opened  the  envelope  where  the 
censor  had  closed  it,  and  read. 

It  sounded  tired,  that  letter  did,  though,  of  course, 
it  told  very  little,  being  censored. 

"We  are  frightfully  busy,"  Abby  wrote,  "but  hope- 
ful of  an  end  to  it  all  before  long.  I  hope  it  may  be 
true  that  peace  is  near,  for  we  have  suffered  enough. 
We  are  not  so  gay  as  once  we  were,  my  dear,  but 
just  as  brave.  Things  have  changed  so,  and  people  are 
gone.  I  hear  among  others  that  our  gay,  mysterious 

and  gallant  Sandro  was  killed  at Sir  Anthony  told 

me,  and  he  got  it  from  Captain  Silvano,  whom  you 
may  remember  at  Mentone.  Killed  in  a  very  brave  bit 
of  action,  I  believe,  too.  Ah,  well!  So  many  people 
are  making  reparation  for  sins  known  and  unknown  by 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  137 

heroic  sacrifice  in  the  war.  It  is  the  great  confes- 
sional." 

I  did  not  read  further  just  then.  Something  im- 
pelled me  to  look  up.  Alicia  was  standing  in  front 
of  me  with  grave  golden  eyes,  her  body  actually  seem- 
ing to  give  off  a  magnetic  force  which  compelled  me 
against  my  will  to  an  immediate  confession  of  what 
I  would  have  preferred  to  break  to  her  in  a  proper 
fashion. 

"Free!"  she  said  too  quietly.     "Is  he— dead?" 

It  was  the  first  mention  which  had  been  made  of 
the  duke  in  almost  a  year.  I  had  begun  to  think  she 
had  forgotten — or  at  least  determined  to  forget.  I 
should  have  known  better.  I  handed  her  the  letter. 
It  was  the  only  thing  I  could  do.  She  took  it  and  read 
it  silently,  still  looking  off  at  the  purple  cloud  bank 
of  the  coast  range  with  its  snow  patches  melting  into 
tHe  fleece  of  the  little  clouds  which  seemed  to  rest  upon 
them — the  barren  gold-and-violet  mountains,  so  in- 
finite, eternal,  restful  and  inspiring.  Her  face  was 
like  marble  and  I  thought  of  the  old  psalmist :  "  I  lift 
up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence  cometh  my 
strength,"  and  knew  she  would  get  strength  from  the 
coast  range,  from  the  infinite  expanse  of  Nature,  even 
as  I  had  got  it  before  now. 

"In  a  very  brave  action,"  she  said  automatically. 
Then  she  threw  her  head  back  in  a  proud  gesture,  as 
though  somebody  had  tried  to  strike  her  and  failed; 
and  without  another  word  she  turned  and  went  into 
the  house.  I  allowed  her  to  go  alone.  Somehow  I  had 
gradually  come  to  recognize  a  difference  between  Alicia 
and  other  young  women  of  my  acquaintance — and  I 
knew  that  there  was  nothing  I  could  say  to  her  just 
then.  She  had  the  strength  of  those  hills,  or  rather 


138  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

mountains — she  was  made  of  their  very  substance. 
I  felt  helpless.  Besides,  it  was  time  to  go  through 
the  lower  orchards,  where  the  Hindus  were  stripping 
olives  in  fear  of  a  possible  touch  of  frost,  and  some- 
body had  to  attend  to  things.  So  I  rose,  much  de- 
pressed but  urged  by  the  duty  before  me.  That  was 
women's  salvation  during  the  war — the  pressure  of 
work  to  be  done.  And  Pinto  was  again  in  Washington. 

But  that  night  Peaches  became  humanized.  I  sup- 
pose the  darkness  was  too  much  for  her.  I  was  un- 
able to  endure  her  sobbing  unless  I  could  participate  in 
it.  And  so  I  went  into  her  room  toward  morning, 
and  we  were  wretched  in  company.  It  was  then  that 
she  showed  me  the  wallet. 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  I  said.  "If  only  you  had  a  souvenir 
or  something  of  his !" 

"I  have!"  replied  poor  Peaches  unexpected.  "I'll 
show  it  to  you." 

She  turned  on  the  light  and  reached  under  her  tear- 
stained  pillow — an  incongruously  gay  figure  in  her 
striped  pyjamas — and  produced  an  envelope  from 
which  she  drew  a  worn  case  of  black  morocco  leather. 
It  was  thin  and  flat  and  no  bigger  than  the  palm  of 
your  hand. 

"I  have  this,  and  two  letters,  and  the  rose  he  picked 
with  the  little  gold  knife  I  gave  him,"  she  said. 

"What  is  it?"  I  made  inquiry. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "There's  something  writ- 
ten in  Italian  inside.  He  left  it  by  accident  on  the  day 
before  he  disappeared." 

"By  accident?"  I  said.    "How?" 

"Well,  I  found  it  on  the  sofa,"  said  Peaches.  "And 
it  has  his  name  in  it.  I  was  going  to  return  it  next 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  139 

day  at  luncheon — the  luncheon  to  which  he  never 
came." 

Then  she  broke  down  again. 

"I  guess  it's  only  a  Dago  mileage  book,"  she  sobbed, 
"but  it's  all  I've  got  of  his!  He  must  have  used  it 
a  lot !"  She  buried  her  head  in  the  pillow,  the  wallet 
clasped  tightly  to  her  breast,  and  I  stole  out  of  the 
room  without  seeing  the  contents.  If  only  I  had 
looked — insisted  on  looking  at  it  then,  what  a  lot  of 
trouble  we  would  have  been  spared!  But  as  my  dear 
father  used  to  say,  it  is  easy  to  be  wise  in  retrospect. 
At  the  time  I  thought  merely  of  Peaches  getting  a  little 
sleep  and  that  somebody  had  to  get  up  and  start  the 
Chinaman  or  the  foremen  wouldn't  get  their  breakfast 
by  five  o'clock,  and  there  was  still  one  sheltered  flat  of 
oranges  to  be  picked. 

Though  the  lugs  were  already  in  the  orchard  I  knew 
that  if  we  were  ever  to  get  through  in  time  to  make 
a  complete  shipment  we  must  begin  work  as  soon  as 
it  was  light  enough  to  see  the  yellow  glow  under  the 
green  on  the  fruit,  and  work  until  it  was  so  dark  that 
the  prime  oranges  were  indistinguishable  from  the  un- 
ripe ones,  and  the  Mohammedans  would  come  out  of 
the  orchard  and  pray,  in  their  heathen  manner,  facing 
where  they  supposed  Mecca  to  be.  Somebody  had  to 
see  to  things,  even  in  time  of  sorrow,  and  I  was  what 
Peaches  cryptically  termed  the  "goat." 

Mr.  Kipling  may  not  have  known  it,  but  the  dawn 
comes  up  like  thunder  in  California,  too,  so  it  is  really 
no  effort  to  rise  early,  once  you  are  accustomed  to  so 
doing.  It  is  a  common  observation  that  when  one 
does  get  up  at  sunrise  one  wonders  why  one  does  not 
do  it  always.  And  for  almost  three  years  such  had 
been  my  continuous  habit. 


140  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

I  set  about  my  duties  this  morning,  however,  with 
a  heavy  heart,  for  I  anticipated  a  long  siege  with 
Peaches  and  her  grief.  But  by  the  time  the  foremen 
had  gone  to  their  sections  and  I  myself  had  ridden  the 
rounds  of  the  various  orchards  to  see  that  all  was 
well,  and  given  the  Chinaman  instructions  about  the 
meals,  which  instructions  he  would  later  pretend  not  to 
have  heard,  and  had  ridden  over  to  the  sluice  at  the 
top  of  the  head  ditch  to  see  why  the  new  feed  to  the 
seedling  flat  wasn't  working  properly,  and  taken  a  look 
at  the  flock  of  turkeys  which  I  had  imported  to  keep 
the  grasshoppers  down  and  which  had  lately  been  de- 
pleted by  coyotes,  I  returned  to  my  second  breakfast; 
and  there  was  Peaches  already  seated  at  table,  well- 
groomed  in  her  riding  clothes,  and  prepared  to  accom- 
pany me  to  the  packing  sheds  at  the  railroads. 

She  was  a  trifle  pale  perhaps,  and  rather  quieter 
than  ever,  but  perfectly  composed,  and  even  smiled  a 
little  as  I  sat  down  beside  her  and  attacked  my  meal. 

"I'm  all  set  now,  Free,"  she  whispered.  "I'll  just 
do  my  bit,  as  he  did  his." 

And  then  we  got  out  the  car  and  went  to  town.  I 
drove,  at  her  request,  and  between  bumps  and  mud 
holes  watched  her  out  of  one  corner  of  my  eye  for 
any  signs  of  a  breakdown.  But  none  came,  either 
then  or  later  in  the  long  sheds  where  the  sweated  fruit 
roared  down  the  channel  of  the  separator,  falling  into 
the  bins  like  golden  hail,  which  the  wives  and  daugh- 
ters of  the  neighboring  ranchers  stood  swiftly  pack- 
ing; a  most  competent  lot  of  females,  very  swift  and 
precise  and  earning  a  good  bit  of  pin  money  thus 
every  year. 

Peaches  stood  outside  all  day,  checking  up  the  lugs 
as  they  arrived,  arranging  about  freight  rates,  over- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  141 

seeing  the  allotment  of  box  cars  to  the  various  growers, 
and  generally  doing  a  man's  job.  And  never  once  dur- 
ing the  twelve  months  which  followed  did  I  know  her 
to  fail  in  her  work — her  magnificent  constitution  help- 
ing, no  doubt,  to  pull  her  through.  But  I  could  see 
that  a  permanent  change  had  taken  place  in  her  from 
the  day  of  Abby's  letter.  She  was  no  longer  the  mad- 
cap, and  though  she  was  even  more  beautiful  she  was 
different — and  through  love,  the  great  tamer — as  Blake 
would  have  it. 

This  was  the  first  incident  to  which  I  have  referred 
as  punctuating  the  monotony  of  the  war  for  us.  The 
second  occurred  more  than  a  year  later,  in  November, 
1918,  when  we,  like  many  another  group  of  ranchers 
throughout  the  country,  thought  the  town  hall  was 
on  fire  when  all  the  time  it  was  only  the  armistice. 

Mr.  Markheim,  Pinto  and  Alicia  and  myself  were 
indoors,  an  unusually  cold  snap  having  offered  us  the 
treat  of  an  open  fire,  a  not  unmixed  pleasure  by  rea- 
son of  our  being  under  some  anxiety  about  the  trees. 
But  on  the  whole  it  was  what  some  modern  poet  whose 
name  I  cannot  at  the  moment  recall  has  termed  the  end 
of  a  perfect  day. 

To  begin  with,  I  had  dispatched  three  pounds  of 
wool  to  Euphemia,  whom  Galadia,  my  only  source  of 
information  about  my  sister,  had  written  was  doing 
great  work  for  the  Red  Cross;  her  chief  natural  gift, 
that  of  knitting,  had  suddenly  become  of  immense  im- 
portance since  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  and  she  had 
to  her  credit  and  the  honor  of  the  family  three  hun- 
dred pair  of  socks.  The  achievement  appeared  almost 
foreign  to  me,  inasmuch  as  I  had  not  knitted  any  socks 
since  that  momentous  pair  at  Monte  Carlo,  a  surpris- 
ing faculty  for  a  more  active  existence  having  de- 


142  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

veloped  in  me  during  my  sojourn  on  the  ranch.  At  any 
rate  I  had  sent  out  the  wool,  finished  my  last  jar  of 
marmalade,  of  which  I  had  made  an  experimental 
thousand  for  a  market  which  Mr.  Pegg  intended  the 
development  of,  and  Mr.  Markheim  had  returned  from 
a  visit  East  in  company  with  Pinto.  Peaches  had  that 
day  succeeded  in  breaking  a  pony  she  had  long  de- 
sired as  a  saddle  horse  and  had  hitherto  been  unsuc- 
cessful with.  Mr.  Pegg  had  a  special  design  for  the 
marmalade  jars — a  crystal  orange,  of  the  natural  size 
and  shape,  the  preserved  fruit  to  furnish  the  color,  and 
he  and  I  were  most  enthusiastic  over  it. 

Mr.  Markheim  also  credited  himself  with  a  suc- 
cessful trip,  though  from  a  wholly  different  cause.  It 
appeared  that  he  had  at  length  contrived  to  install  in 
his  house  a  picture  which  he  had  long  coveted,  and 
this  picture  was  none  other  than  the  Madonna  of  the 
Lamp,  for  which  he  had  paid  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  Since  his  purchase  of  it  the  picture  had  been 
stored,  and  it  seemed  to  me  a  strange  time  to  trouble 
with  getting  it  out.  But  Sebastian  Markheim,  with  the 
fervor  of  the  true  collector  and  the  madness  which 
seems  the  hall-mark  of  his  kind,  was  apparently  ob- 
livious of  this  circumstance  and  became  wrapt  in  his 
description  of  it. 

"You  must  have  seen  it  in  Vienna,"  he  said.  "Good 
heavens,  don't  say  you  have  seen  photographs  of  it! 
You  cannot  imagine  the  beauty  of  the  thing  itself.  I 
have  given  directions  for  the  remodeling  of  the  south 
wall  of  my  library  in  the  Ossining  house  for  its  oc- 
cupancy. It  will  hang  all  alone  on  that  wall — it's 
only  a  small  picture,  you  know,  so  I  have  had  Has- 
brock,  the  architect,  design  some  panels  to  encircle  it. 
I  hope  it  is  going  to  please  you,  Alicia." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  143 

"What?"  said  Mr.  Pegg  twirling  round  suddenly 
from  the  bowl  of  ripe  olives  with  which  he  was  oc- 
cupied. "What's  that?  Why  should  Alicia  be 
pleased?" 

"She's  going  to  live  there  with  it !"  said  Markheim. 
"She  promised  this  afternoon!" 

"Oh,  no!"  I  said  getting  to  my  feet.  But  nobody 
seemed  to  hear  me. 

"Yes,  father,"  said  Alicia.  Then  Pinto's  face  broke 
into  a  sort  of  crooked  smile  and  he  held  out  his  hands 
to  both  of  them. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  said.  "Think  of  my 
Peaches  picking  out  a  friend  of  her  father's!  Why, 
Markheim,  you  must  be  somewhere  near  my  own  age!" 

"Why,  pa,  how  rude!"  said  Alicia.  "Aren't  you 
going  to  kiss  me?  And  you  too,  Free!  Stop  stand- 
ing there  like  a  dummy!  People  get  married  all  the 
time — there's  nothing  unusual  about  it,  you  poor  nuts ! 
Come  on,  congratulate  us!" 

Well,  of  course,  I  recovered  myself  as  best  I  could, 
and  pecked  her  on  the  cheek.  But  I  didn't  feel  my 
congratulations — I  simply  couldn't  feel  them.  To 
marry  that  old  man.  And  a  foreigner!  And  a  Ger- 
man Swiss!  And  everything!  It  was  too  dreadful! 
Nothing  could  make  me  feel  that  she  was  doing  it  for 
any  reason  except  pity  and  because  he  had  nagged  her 
into  it  with  his  ceaseless  attentions.  Of  couse  we  had 
nothing  against  him,  absolutely  nothing,  because  after 
all  being  a  millionaire  art  collector  is  not  in  itself 
strictly  criminal.  But  with  the  memory  of  that  beau- 
tiful romance  in  Italy  still  fresh  in  my  own  mind  I 
could  not  understand  it — I  simply  could  not ;  and  every 
fiber  of  my  being  resented  it.  Youth  and  age!  It 
was  all  wrong.  She  had  a  silly  notion  that  her  heart 


144  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

was  dead,  and  that  it  didn't  matter  what  she  did.  That 
if  it  gave  Sebastian  happiness  to  marry  her — why,  he 
was  good  and  kind  and  rich  and  cultured  and  famous, 
and  why  not  give  joy  since  one  could  no  longer  ex- 
perience it? 

I  could  see  in  a  flash  what  had  gone  on  in  her  sim- 
ple, honest,  generous  mind,  and  it  nearly  drove  me 
wild,  while  all  the  time  I  had  to  stand  there  grinning 
and  patting  her  on  the  shoulder,  and  saying  how  won- 
derful it  all  was,  when  in  reality  I  wanted  to  drag  her 
out  of  the  room  and  shake  her  for  being  such  a  great 
silly  fool,  and  force  her  to  stop  it  before  anyone  else 
heard  of  her  folly  and  she  found  herself  in  the  com- 
plications of  public  knowledge  of  her  engagement. 

Instead  of  which  I  stood  round  and  admired  the 
wonderful  five-carat  diamond  ring  which  Markheim 
produced,  and  behaved  like  an  idiot  generally. 

"Well,  well,  when  is  it  to  be?"  Mr.  Pegg  wanted 
to  know. 

Alicia  turned  her  big  eyes  slowly  from  her  mar- 
velous jewel  to  her  father's  puzzled  face. 

"I  have  promised  Sebastian,"  she  said  slowly,  "to 
marry  him  as  soon  as  the  war  is  over !" 

Her  tone  had,  to  my  ears,  the  expectancy  of  a  long 
reprieve. 

And  it  was  at  that  minute  that  the  fire  bells  began 
to  ring. 

You  can  be  sure  we  all  rushed  out  at  that,  crying, 
"Where  is  it?  IWhat  is  the  matter?"  and  many  other 
similar  exclamations  natural  to  the  situation.  But 
at  first  nobody  seemed  to  know.  The  Chinese  cook 
came  out,  frying  pan  in  hand,  and  began  running  round 
in  circles.  The  hands  were  soon  straggling  in  from 
their  camp  in  the  gulch  by  the  river.  Somebody,  Mr. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  145 

Pegg,  I  think,  tried  the  telephone,  but  could  get  no 
answer.  By  this  time  almost  everybody  on  the  ranch 
had  assembled  before  the  house,  shivering  with  the 
frost  and  searching  the  sky  for  signs  of  the  incendiary 
glare,  but  in  vain.  An  automobile  dashed  by  down  the 
Letterbox  road  with  two  prospectors  in  it.  One  was 
firing  a  gun  like  mad  and  he  yelled  something  unintelli- 
gible at  us  in  passing  but  ignored  our  invitation  to  stop. 

Then  from  the  direction  of  the  town  a  flivver 
emerged  out  of  the  swiftly  falling  dusk,  and  as  it 
stopped  in  front  of  our  gate  a  man  in  the  uniform  of 
an  American  captain  jumped  down  with  the  aid  of  his 
uninjured  arm,  the  other  being  supported  by  a  sling, 
and  came  running  toward  us,  flinging  his  cap  into  the 
air,  the  lights  from  our  porch  gleaming  upon  his  ex- 
cited face  and  upon  the  decorations  on  his  breast. 

"Victory!"  he  shouted.  "Victory!  Schoolhouse 
fire?  Hell!  The  armistice  was  signed  at  two  o'clock 
to-day!" 

It  was  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  and  I  assure  you 
that  it  was  at  that  moment  that  I  recognized  the  strong 
family  resemblance  and  decided  that  he  might  after  all 
be  a  Talbot — one  of  our  Talbots. 

You  can  imagine  the  wild  riot  into  which  the  news 
and  the  bearer  of  it  threw  us.  I  cannot  describe  it. 
Everyone  went  crazy  and  I  have  a  blurred  recollec- 
tion of  kissing  several  persons,  the  Chinaman  among 
them.  But  only  one  thing  remains  clearly  in  my 
mind — Alicia  standing  like  a  stone  in  a  corner  of  the 
veranda,  her  white  face  lifted  to  the  rising  moon,  and 
Markheim  running  toward  her  with  burning  words 
which  seemed  to  fall  upon  deaf  ears. 

"Alicia,  Alicia,  it's  the  end  of  the  war!"  he  was 
shouting. 


X 

I  RECALL  upon  one  occasion  my  dear  father  having 
said  that  love  in  a  cottage  was  better  than  politeness 
in  a  mansion,  and  this  came  at  once  to  mind  upon 
the  occasion  of  our  visit  to  Sebastian  Markheim's  pal- 
ace on  the  banks  of  the  upper  section  of  the  Hudson 
River. 

This  took  place  just  six  months  after  that  wonderful 
night  when  my  dear  nephew,  as  I  was  now  convinced 
he  was,  returned,  so  to  speak,  with  the  armistice  in  his 
pocket.  Sebastian,  as  I  was  now  instructed  to  call  Mr. 
Markheim,  had  desired  us  to  come  sooner,  in  order  that 
Peaches  might  herself  assist  in  selecting  the  plans  and 
furnishings  incident  to  the  remodeling  of  what  was 
to  be  her  home. 

But  Peaches  was  reluctant  to  go.  Of  course  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  readjustment  to  be  done  on  all  her 
father's  ranches,  and  while  he  was  in  the  south,  where 
the  big  orchards  were,  we  set  in  order  the  home  ranch, 
which  had  been  practically  in  our  charge  for  a  year 
and  a  half,  and  she  gave  as  excuse  for  the  delay  the 
necessity  for  making  these  readjustments  herself. 
Richard  was  to  be  left  in  complete  charge  and  she 
busied  herself  quite  unnecessarily  in  showing  him  a 
thousand  details.  Every  week  she  would  promise  to 
be  ready,  and  when  the  time  came  she  would  have  dis- 
covered something  that  nobody  else  could  take  care 
of,  which  was  all  nonsense,  because  a  citrus  ranch 
practically  takes  care  of  itself  during  the  winter 

146 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  147 

months.  But  by  hook  and  crook  she  held  us  off  until 
April,  and  then  at  last  we  were  ready  to  go. 

I  will  state  that  I  for  one  was  unreservedly  eager 
to  go  home — to  go  East.  I  was,  in  point  of  fact,  so 
excited  at  the  prospect  that  on  the  night  before  our 
departure  I  found  myself  unable  to  compose  myself 
to  slumber,  and  rising  from  my  uneasy  couch  I  donned 
a  robe  and  ventured  forth  from  my  bedchamber,  which 
was  upon  the  ground  floor. 

The  moonlight,  which  flooded  the  garden,  gave  it 
an  uncanny  distorted  aspect,  and  all  at  once  as  I  sat 
there,  huddled  upon  a  bench  close  to  the  wall  of  the 
house,  I  seemed  to  see  the  ranch  and  its  surroundings 
with  the  same  eyes  which  envisioned  it  upon  my  arrival 
so  long  ago.  This  sudden  clarity  of  vision  was  doubt- 
less due  to  the  subconscious  influence  of  my  impend- 
ing departure.  At  any  rate  the  place,  which  I  had  grown 
so  accustomed  to  that  I  beheld  it  only  with  the  blind- 
ness of  familiarity,  seemed  once  more  the  impossibly 
crude  wilderness  that  it  appeared  to  be  upon  my  arrival. 

For  in  the  northern  part  of  California  there  is  little 
of  the  induced  luxuriance  of  the  South.  There  is  some- 
thing of  the  Eastern  farmer's  fight  with  the  elements 
and  a  Nature  that  is  not  always  overly  kind  or  utterly 
dependable,  and  our  garden  was  not  a  thing  of  lovely 
lawns,  dense  shrubs  and  misty  glades.  Far  from  it. 
Our  flower  beds  were  as  practically  irrigated  as  our 
orchards,  standing  deep  in  mud  and  lifting  their  won- 
derful blossoms  from  the  mire  we  so  religiously  pro- 
vided for  them.  There  was  none  of  the  trimness  of  an 
Eastern  estate  about  our  more  than  practical,  enter- 
prising organization.  Rather  it  bore  the  general  aspect 
of  Boston  Common  after  an  August  holiday.  It  was, 
in  plain  truth,  shockingly  untidy,  and  I  was  horrified 


148  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

to  realize  that  even  I,  who  had  been  so  carefully  reared 
by  the  immaculate  Euphemia,  had  made  only  the  most 
feeble  sort  of  effort  to  tidy  up.  I  had  been  unable  to 
see  the  molehills  for  the  mountains,  as  one  might  say. 
But  now,  with  the  thought  of  the  concentrated,  con- 
densed East  before  me,  I  perceived  the  unevenness  of 
our  paths,  the  forgotten  bundle  of  old  papers  outside 
the  storehouse,  the  broken  gate  which  everyone  cursed 
at  but  forgot  to  mend;  and  the  olive  and  orange  clad 
hills  beyond  grew  dim  in  my  mind's  eye  even  as  they 
formed  but  indistinguishable  black  patches  in  the  cloud- 
changing  moonlight,  A  deep  longing  for  my  own  kind 
of  living  swept  over  me,  and  I  even  went  so  far  as 
to  experience  a  desire  for  Euphemia's  breakfast  room 
on  Chestnut  Street,  and  the  mended  table  linen — the 
careful  little  things  of  life  grown  dear  through  years 
of  painstakingly  careful  usage. 

Moved  by  this  overwhelming  impulse  I  was  on  the 
verge  of  rising  and  gathering  up  that  disgracefully 
untidy  bundle  of  papers  and  carrying  it  to  the  trash 
bin  where  it  belonged,  thus  at  once  satisfying  a  normal 
impulse  and  proving  to  myself  that  my  upbringing  had 
not  been  in  vain,  when  I  became  aware  that  the  window 
above  my  head  had  been  opened  softly  and  that  some- 
one— Peaches,  without  a  doubt,  since  that  was  her 
chamber — was  standing  there,  crying  softly. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  speak — to  go  to  her  with 
what  comfort  I  was  capable  of  offering,  but  having 
for  an  instant  refrained  I  could  not  do  so.  Since  the 
announcement  of  her  betrothal  to  Markheim  a  wall 
had  sprung  up  between  us  as  far  as  her  intimate  life 
was  concerned.  Indeed  she  seemed  to  have  withdrawn 
into  herself  curiously,  though  I  doubt  that  anyone 
realized  it  as  keenly  as  did  I. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  149 

And  then  having  failed  to  speak  immediately  I 
found  myself  in  an  awkward  predicament.  Should  I 
move  or  not?  I  had  no  desire  to  eavesdrop  for  the 
confidence  she  withheld,  and  yet  I  felt  it  my  bounden 
duty  as  her  chaperon  and  guardian  and  older  woman 
generally  to  know  all  about  her  by  one  means  or  an- 
other, for  her  own  good,  and  not  out  of  mere  female 
curiosity.  And  so  allowing  my  sense  of  responsibility 
to  conquer  my  delicacy  I  kept  very  still,  and  before 
long  my  diligence  was  rewarded. 

"A  clean  sweep!"  whispered  Peaches  at  her  win- 
dow. "No  use  kidding  myself.  I'll  make  the  break 
clean.  It's  the  only  thing  to  do!" 

There  was  a  short  silence  punctuated  only  by  a 
few  sniffs,  and  then  an  object  flew  threw  the  air  over 
my  head  and  landed  in  the  pool  with  a  splash.  The 
window  above  was  closed  with  a  snap.  Whatever 
ritual  she  had  been  at  was  over.  But  not  so  the  ful- 
fillment of  my  duty  as  her  protectress. 

No  sooner  had  I  made  sure  that  she  was  not  going 
to  change  her  mind  and  come  down  after  it,  than  I 
crept  stealthily  to  the  water's  edge,  having  carefully 
noted  the  very  spot  where  the  object  fell,  and  kneeling 
on  the  concrete  basin's  brim,  greatly  to  the  detriment 
of  that  portion  of  my  anatomy  which  bore  the  weight, 
being  clad  only  for  private  life,  I  fished  determinedly 
for  the  best  part  of  half  an  hour,  my  sleeves  rolled  up 
but  not  escaping  the  effects  of  my  earnest  endearor, 
and  my  curls  getting  thoroughly  soaked. 

Fortunately  Peaches'  aim,  usually  so  accurate  and 
far  reaching  in  the  pursuit  of  the  national  sport  of 
baseball,  or  in  any  other  emergency  such  as  reaching  a 
high-hung  apple,  had  fallen  a  little  short  this  time,  her 
secret  having  hit  the  shallow  end  of  the  pond.  And  so 


150  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

it  was  that  after  a  very  considerable  period  of  effort 
I  did  retrieve  the  object,  and  retreated  with  it  to  the 
seclusion  of  my  room. 

Once  there  I  lit  the  lamp,  drew  the  curtains,  locked 
the  door  and  proceeded  with  my  duty  still  further.  It 
was  a  terribly  moist  little  bundle,  done  up  in  a  silk 
handkerchief  and  weighted  with  the  bronze  paper- 
weight I  had  given  Peaches  for  Christmas.  But  I  was 
too  much  interested  to  mind  this  slight.  For  inside 
the  bundle  were  two  letters,  already  a  mere  pulpy 
mass  from  the  soaking  they  had  sustained,  a  brittle 
something  which  might  once  have  been  a  rose,  and 
the  duke's  wallet ! 

The  latter  was  still  intact,  but  before  examining  it 
I  made  a  little  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  by  diligent  coax- 
ing managed  to  consume  the  remnants  of  the  other 
souvenirs.  They  were  no  one's  affairs  except  that  of 
the  lovers  and  no  other  eyes  should  behold  them  un- 
bidden. And  when  they  were  quite  concealed  in  the 
ashes  of  the  fireplace  I  returned  to  the  light  and  ex- 
amined the  wallet  carefully.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
there  simply  must  be  more  to  the  matter  than  appeared. 
In  any  of  those  books  which  had  so  deep  an  influence 
upon  my  early  thinking  the  discoverer  of  such  a  wallet 
would  have'  surprised  a  jewel  of  value,  secret  docu- 
ments popularly  referred  to  as  'the  papers,'  or  a  mar- 
riage certificate  which  cleared  the  honor  of  the  hero's 
mother,  or  something  equally  vital.  And  I  must  con- 
fess that  I,  in  opening  my  find,  rather  anticipated  some 
such  discovery,  but  my  expectations  were  doomed  to 
disappointment,  for  it  was  in  very  truth  what  Peaches 
had  suggested — a  mileage  ticket  of  some  sort  made 
out  in  Sandro's  name! 

I  will  say  that  this  end  to  my  exciting  evening  was 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  151 

a  trifle  flat,  but  as  my  dear  father  used  to  say,  our 
chief  pleasure  lies  in  anticipation  and  no  disappoint- 
ment in  the  event  can  cheat  us  of  that.  So  I  simply 
decided  to  put  the  thing  carefully  away  in  the  bottom 
of  my  reticule  in  case  it  was  ever  needed.  What  with 
the  war  and  all,  one  never  can  tell  who  is  going  to  turn 
up  a  hero;  and  just  think  what  souvenirs  of  Rupert 
Brooke,  for  example,  are  worth  to-day,  not  to  men- 
tion Napoleon  and  General  Grant,  and  so  forth,  whose 
hero-value  has,  of  course,  been  augmented  with  age. 

\Yell,  at  any  rate,  that  was  all  there  was  to  it  at 
the  time.  I  slept  the  sleep  of  duty  well  done,  because 
I  was  determined  to  take  care  of  Peaches  in  spite  of 
herself,  and  the  next  morning  rose  refreshed,  to  make 
the  early  train  for  San  Francisco,  where  we  were  to 
join  Mr.  Pegg  and  turn  our  faces  eastward. 

The  house  which  Sebastian  Markheim  had  remod- 
eled for  his  bride-to-be  was  already  a  sumptuous  struc- 
ture worthy  of-  the  famous  collection  of  art  treasures 
which  it  housed,  and  his  efforts  in  altering  it  had  been 
bent  rather  in  the  direction  of  improving  its  livableness 
and  making  it  a  cheerier  spot  to  which  to  bring  a 
young  wife.  The  object  of  our  visit  was  that  Peaches 
be  given  the  opportunity  of  making  it  completely  to 
her  liking  in  advance  of  her  possession  of  it,  and  in- 
cidentally to  make  the  acquaintance  of  her  future  neigh- 
bors, and  of  Mr.  Markheim's  set  generally. 

He  had  planned  a  large  house  party  as  the  means 
of  introducing  his  fiancee  to  his  social  world,  and  she 
intended  to  procure  her  trousseau  in  New  York  dur- 
ing the  intervals  of  gayety.  Mr.  Pegg  was  enchanted 
at  the  prospect  thus  opened  up  before  him,  and  I  was 
myself  much  elated  at  the  thought  of  experiencing  some 
real  social  life  once  more,  for  Abby's  hospitality  in 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


dear  old  Italy,  so  lavish  and  yet  in  such  excellent  good 
form,  had  given  me  a  taste  for  the  gaieties  my  re- 
stricted youth  had  lacked.  Even  Peaches  was  gay, 
though  not  as  of  yore,  but  rather  with  a  mature,  stately 
gayety,  and  her  manner  toward  me  had  become  posi- 
tively motherly. 

"There  now,  Free!"  she  soothed  me  one  day  when 
I  had  expressed  a  mild  concern  about  her  state  of  mind. 
"There  now,  Free,  don't  you  worry  about  me!  We 
all  have  to  grow  up  sometime,  don't  we?  Can't  stay 
young  plants  forever  —  especially  we  women.  Comes  a 
time  when  we  got  to  be  grafted  on  to  old  stock  and 
get  ready  for  bearing  —  eh?  Well,  that's  me,  old 
thing!" 

I  was  shocked  at  her  indelicacy  and  did  not  hesitate 
to  say  so. 

"If  that  is  how  you  regard  your  forthcoming  nup- 
tials," I  said  stiffly,  "you  ought  to  dissolve  your  be- 
trothal. One  should  marry  only  for  love  —  for  love 
alone!" 

"Oh,  should  they?"  said  Peaches.  "That's  all  you 
know  about  it.  I'm  very  fond  of  Mr.  Mark  —  of  Se- 
bastian, and  he  is  the  typical  good  husband." 

"But  you  don't  love  him!"  I  protested  firmly. 

"I  love  him  as  much  as  I  am  likely  to  love  any- 
one," responded  Peaches  —  like  a  young  Portia,  so 
stately  and  serious.  "And  even  if  he  is  half  a  head 
shorter  than  I  am  he  has  a  kind  heart  and  he's  a  gen- 
tleman." 

"And  not  over  sixty  years  old!"  I  retorted.  "Oh, 
Peaches,  do  you  really  want  to  do  it  ?" 

Suddenly  she  was  serious.  The  defensively  banter- 
ing light  went  out  of  her  changeful  eyes. 

"Don't,  Free!"  she  pleaded.     "Yes,  I  do  want  to. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 153 

I  want  to  be  a  reasonable  being — to  make  the  best  life 
I  can  for  myself  since  I  must  go  on  living.  I  don't 
want  to  be  a  coward.  I  am  still  young  and  I  haven't 
seen  much  of  the  world.  Riches,  art  treasures,  cul- 
tured people,  and  things — social  position — 'there  must 
be  joy  in  these  things  or  folks  would  not  struggle  for 
them  so !  And  since  they  must  be  filling  up  the  empti- 
ness in  a  whole  lot  of  lives  I'm  going  to  have  a  try  at 
them  too.  Don't  be  afraid  for  me.  I  know  just  what 
I  am  doing.  I  know  that  I  shall  never  care  again. 
But  I  can  like.  And  I  can  live,  and  I'm  going  to  use 
my  old  beau  to  help  me  get  the  most  out  of  life  that 
I  can  when — when — well,  you  know,  only  don't  say  it, 
please !" 

She  was  wonderful.  So  big  and  beautiful  and  full 
of  health  and  common  sense.  I  could  not  but  admire 
her,  though,  of  course,  a  few  maidenly  tears  and  vows 
of  lifelong  fidelity  to  the  heroic  dead  would  have  been 
more  suitable.  But  things  had  already  gone  too  far 
for  that.  At  the  time  the  above-recorded  conversation 
took  place  we  were  standing  upon  the  steps  of  the  Ritz 
in  New  York,  waiting  for  the  car  which  was  to  con- 
vey us  up  the  river.  Mr.  Markheim  had  not  expected 
us  for  another  week  and  so  hadn't  been  at  the  hotel 
to  meet  us,  but  was  sending  his  chauffeur. 

And  in  a  way  Peaches'  words  reassured  me.  After 
all  one  must  eventually  resign  oneself  to  fate,  and  if 
one  had  the  good  sense  to  take  fate  by  the  horns  and 
as  Peaches  would  say  "beat  him  to  it" — why,  so  much 
the  better.  We  could  all  settle  down  to  watch  her  live 
happily  enough  ever  after  if  her  program  worked  out. 

But  would  it?  Despite  her  assurance  I  felt  a  faint 
misgiving.  My  dear  father  used  always  to  say: 
"Never  you  girls  marry  until  Mister  Right  comes 


154  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

along."  And  we  were  brought  up  to  honor  and  obey 
our  parents — with  the  result  that  at  the  respective 
ages  of  fifty  and  sixty  we  girls  were  still  single.  How- 
ever, I  digress. 

In  my  youth,  following  the  precepts  of  my  father 
and  seeking  knowledge  of  the  world  through  the  me- 
dium of  literature,  I  came  upon  the  works  of  a  lady 
of  rank  whose  writings  had  for  me  the  greatest  fascina- 
tion. As  to  what  her  actual  name  was  I  have  to  this 
day  remained  in  ignorance,  and  her  title,  The  Duchess, 
is  all  that  I  identify  her  by.  But  this  estimable  lady, 
while  somewhat  given  to  the  recounting  of  scandalous 
episodes  and  the  misfortunes  peculiar  to  innocent  maid- 
ens, had  a  wealth  of  descriptive  power  when  she  un- 
dertook the  description  of  rich  and  aristocratic  man- 
sions or  the  interiors  of  castles  of  the  less  modest 
variety.  But  nothing  ever  recorded  by  her,  not  set 
forth  for  public  inspection  in  the  Boston  Museum, 
could  compare  with  the  sumptuousness  of  Mr.  Mark- 
heim's  establishment. 

I  had  been  prepared  for  something  very  fine,  but 
this  gorgeous  replica  of  a  famous  Italian  villa  built 
upon  terraces,  its  lovely  low  white  facades  rising  in 
a  symmetrical  group  one  above  the  other,  the  whole 
nestling  into  the  budding  verdure  of  the  hillside,  its 
formal  gardens  descending  step  by  step  almost  to  the 
broad  sweep  of  the  Hudson  below,  was  a  veritable 
dream-palace. 

And  the  interior !  Words  almost  fail  me  when  I  seek 
to  describe  it.  Perhaps  the  most  fitting  thing  I  can 
say  of  it  is  that  it  was  a  home  good  enough  for  Peaches. 
Her  great  height,  her  gold-and-marble  beauty,  here 
found  at  last  a  fitting  habitat.  And  then  when  I 
saw  that  little,  comparatively  speaking,  Markheim  man 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  155 

trotting  about  in  front  of  her  and  giving  her  the  place 
with  a  gesture  as  he  displayed  each  treasure  in  turn, 
I  felt  sick  and  faint  in  my  mind.  And  yet  he  was 
most  kind  and  had  never  given  me  the  least  cause  to 
criticize  him,  and  certainly  the  house  was  enough  to 
tempt  any  girl.  I  sighed,  however,  to  think  of  the 
day  when  she  would  be  married  and  living  there. 

"Mr.  Markheim — Sebastian,  I  mean,"  I  said — Mr. 
Pegg  and  I  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  happy  couple 
as  they  made  the  tour  of  the  house — "Sebastian,  this 
place  looks  as  if  you  had  dug  up  the  rich  heart  of 
Italy  and  transplanted  it  to  America!" 

Sebastian  laughed. 

"You  have  the  right  idea,  Miss  Freedom!  The 
right  idea — yes !"  he  exclaimed  with  pride.  "More  than 
half  my  collection  is  Italian — and  if  I  do  so  say  my- 
self, it  has  taken  a  lot  of  patience  and  trouble  to  gather 
it — not  to  speak  of  the  cost  in  money.  They  have  a 
strict  law  against  taking  objects  of  art  out  of  their 
country,  you  know,  and  it's  been  nip  and  tuck  getting 
hold  of  a  lot  of  this  stuff — smuggled  of  course.  Oh, 
don't  look  so  shocked!  If  it's  genuine  it's  smuggled — 
at  the  Italian  end.  But  one  doesn't  call  attention  to 
the  fact  except  in  the  privacy  of  one's  own  family !" 

"It  sure  is  swell!"  said  Mr.  Pegg. 

Sebastian  laughed  again — a  sound  which  never  got 
him  favor  with  me — and  opened  the  door  into  the 
newest  addition  to  the  house — the  library  wing,  which 
he  had  remodeled  for  the  especial  purpose  of  housing 
the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp. 

When  I  entered  I  could  not  refrain  from  an  ex- 
clamation of  delight,  nor  can  I  forbear  to  describe  the 
place  in  some  detail.  To  begin  with  it  was  almost 
round  and  very  large,  the  ceiling  being  domed  and 


156  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

the  books  being  carried  in  long  narrow  stacks  sunk 
into  the  paneling  between  the  French  windows  as  high 
as  the  carved  molding.  Above  this  an  exquisite  tone 
of  blue  with  a  few  cleverly  distributed  stars  gave  a 
sense  of  infinite  space,  and  despite  the  cumbersome 
old  Florentine  furniture  the  room  was  neither  heavy 
nor  dull.  There  was  just  enough  gold  to  furnish 
flashes  of  light,  and  the  warm  old  amber  brocade  on 
the  chairs  seemed  to  catch  and  hold  the  sunlight  which 
poured  through  the  long  narrow  windows  at  the  west, 
all  of  which  opened  directly  upon  the  first  terrace  of 
the  rose  garden.  But  the  real  triumph  in  lighting  was 
the  rose  window  of  plain  leaded  glass  on  the  north 
side  of  the  room — the  wall  of  which  had  been  recon- 
structed to  accommodate  it  in  order  that  the  Madonna 
might  be  properly  illuminated  by  day.  We  gasped 
our  admiration  of  its  perfect  lacery,  and  then  turned 
about  and  faced  the  picture  itself  in  reverent  silence. 

Of  course  it  is  ridiculous  to  suppose  there  is  anyone 
to  whom  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp  is  not  perfectly 
familiar,  being,  as  she  is,  one  of  those  paintings  which 
are  impressed  upon  the  popular  mind  in  spite  of  itself 
through  endless  repetition  upon  postal  and  Christmas 
cards,  engravers'  windows,  magazine  covers  and  Sun- 
day-school prizes,  to  say  nothing  of  Little  Collections 
of  Great  Masters,  gift  photographs,  furnishings  for 
college  rooms  and  appeals  for  public  charities. 

Nevertheless,  I  will  describe  it,  because  as  my  dear 
father  used  to  say,  the  collective  mind  of  the  public  is 
not  the  public  mind  of  the  collector.  It  has  to  be  told, 
in  other  words,  when  it  can't  be  shown;  whereas,  of 
course,  you  can  tell  a  collector  nothing — and  get  him 
to  admit  it. 

Well,  at  any  rate,  in  case  you  do  not  recall  it,  the 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 157 

Madonna  of  the  Lamp  is  a  round  canvas,  not  more 
than  two  and  a  half  feet  in  diameter,  and  represents 
the  Virgin  with  the  Child  curled  up  in  a  robe  of  sap- 
phire blue  which  falls  from  her  head  in  thick  sweep- 
ing folds  and  crosses  her  knee  in  such  a  way  as  to 
give  the  appearance  of  being  blown  from  behind  by 
a  wind  and  aiding  in  the  circular  effect.  She  is  seated 
and  bending  over  the  Infant,  protecting  both  him  and 
the  flickering  lamp  from  the  wind.  Above  her  head 
is  a  single  star  visible  through  a  patch  of  leaded 
window. 

Now  you  recall  it,  I  am  sure.  It  was  painted  in 
Florence  by  Raphael  about  the  year  1506  and  is  one 
of  the  most  famous  monuments  to  his  genius. 

And  Markheim  had  provided  a  most  wonderful  set- 
ting for  this  jewel.  The  great  window  was  of  a  de- 
sign made  from  that  behind  the  Virgin's  head,  and  the 
carved  panel  upon  which  the  painting  hung  was  a 
skillful  variation  of  the  beautiful  old  carved  frame 
about  the  canvas — the  original  frame,  it  was  believed 
to  be,  and  the  motif  of  the  design  was  carried  out 
in  a  molding  which  diminished  into  a  faint  bas-relief 
at  the  outer  edges  of  the  large  wall  space  above  the 
mantel  where  it  hung.  Nor  was  the  picture  hung  too 
high.  Even  I  could  have  touched  the  bottom  of  the 
carvings*  and  the  mantelpiece  had  no  other  ornament 
except  two  gigantic  polychrome  candlesticks  of  the 
same  period.  Truly  it  was  a  wonderfully  successful 
arrangement  and  reflected  great  credit  on  the  owner 
who  had  conceived  it. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  was  all  he  said,  looking  not  at 
the  Madonna  but  at  Alicia.  "Do  you  like  it,  eh?" 

Mr.  Pegg  took  the  question  to  himself. 

"And  you  paid  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  for 


158  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

that  little  picture?"  he  asked  incredulously.  "Why, 
from  the  price  I  expected  something  as  big  as  a  barn 
door!" 

"Pa — don't  be  a  boob — it's  a  diamond  without  a 
flaw,"  said  Peaches,  going  closer,  her  face  alight  with 
pleasure.  "It's  a  real  mother  and  child,"  she  added. 
"How  big  would  you  want  them  to  be?  They  are  im- 
mortal— isn't  that  big  enough?" 

Through  the  crudity  of  her  rebuke  -I  got  one  of 
those  rare  glimpses  of  her  golden  heart. 

Her  crude  parent,  however,  was  unimpressed. 

"Of  course  it's  real  pretty,"  he  said.  "Which  is  more 
than  can  be  said  for  most  antiques.  But  five  hundred 
thousand!  My  Lord,  look  at  the  profit?  There  can't 
be  over  ten  dollars'  worth  of  paint  in  it!  Where  is 
this  feller,  Raphael?" 

"Where  the  profit  is  doing  him  precious  little  good," 
chuckled  Sebastian. 

"Must  be  hell !"  commented  Pinto. 

"Very  possibly,  in  spite  of  his  choice  of  subjects!" 
replied  Markheim. 

Whereat  he  and  I  exchanged  our  first  glance  of 
thoroughly  sympathetic  understanding.  I,  of  course, 
at  once  lowered  my  eyes,  a  burning  sense  of  shame  at 
my  implied  disloyalty  struggling  with  my  desire  to 
spare  Mr.  Pegg  the  mortification  of  instruction.  I 
had  not  forgotten  and  shall  never  forget  how  gently 
he  led  me  to  see  the  error  of  my  ways  when  I  first 
hit  the  ranch — as,  for  example,  when  I  unknowingly 
made  culls  of  his  best  tree  of  home  fruit  and  he  urged 
me  to  make  marmalade  of  them  and  never  told  me 
until  afterward  that  the  way  I  had  picked  them  by 
pulling  them  off  the  tree  instead  of  clipping  the  stem 
made  it  impossible  to  use  them  for  anything  else.  So 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  159 

now  in  my  own  realm  I  wished  to  lead  him  gradually 
into  the  paths  of  erudition  and  allow  him  to  learn  by 
inference  whenever  possible. 

Well,  the  rest  of  the  house  was  beautiful  as  could 
be,  and  after  we  had  finished  inspecting  if  we  had 
tea  in  a  wonderful  glass  room  filled  with  gay  cretonnes 
and  flowering  plants,  wicker  chairs  and  caged  canaries. 
Two  menservants  served  the  refection.  Mr.  Sebas- 
tian Markheim  had  a  considerable  household,  that  was 
plain,  and  I  began  to  regret  that  I  had  steadfastly  stood 
with  Peaches  on  refusing  her  father's  suggestion  of 
a  personal  maid. 

"There's  something  too  public  about  it,"  had  been 
her  objection,  which  I  had  sustained. 

But  here  amid  all  these  servitors  I  felt  differently. 
Not  that  I  felt  any  indignity  attached  to  our  maidless 
condition,  being,  as  I  was,  a  self-supporting  female 
well  able  to  afford  one  if  I  desired  such  a  thing.  I 
could  now  live  as  I  chose  instead  of  as  I  aught,  if  you 
understand  me.  But  I  knew  that  Peaches  would  have 
to  get  a  female  attendant  after  she  was  married.  Mark- 
heim was  not  the  man  to  allow  his  wife  to  live  in  com- 
fort when  he  could  provide  her  with  luxury.  And  at 
this  juncture  of  my  thought  I  stopped  halfway  through 
the  sugared  tea  biscuit,  a  terrible  realization  over- 
whelming me  for  the  first  time. 

When  Peaches  was  married  she  would  no  longer 
need  me.  Who  then  would  need  me?  Nobody?  Not 
Euphemia,  who  never  answered  my  letters,  though 
she  always  mutely  cashed  the  inclosed  checks.  And 
would  there  be  any  checks  to  send  her  ?  Where  would 
they  come  from?  It  was  a  chilling  thought,  as  will 
readily  be  admitted.  Why  I  had  not  thought  of  it 
sooner  I  cannot  say.  It  must  have  been  evident  from 


160  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

the  moment  of  Peaches'  engagement  that  when  the 
affair  reached  its  consummation  I  would  be,  to  put 
it  vulgarly,  out  of  a  job. 

Of  course  I  did  not  so  greatly  care  for  myself,  but 
there  was  Euphemia,  the  dependent,  to  consider,  whose 
tradition  of  useless  gentility  must  not  be  disturbed  in 
her  declining  years.  True,  I  had  saved  a  very  con- 
siderable portion  of  my  salary  and  had  almost  twenty 
thousand  dollars  distributed  among  six  savings  banks. 
That  might  conceivably  tide  us  over  for  the  remainder 
of  our  lives.  But  I  had  acquired  the  habit  of  remun- 
erative occupation  and  close  companionship  with  dear 
friends ;  also  a  taste  for  French  heels  and  facial  mas- 
sage whenever  practical.  And  the  thought  of  the  Chest- 
nut Street  house  was,  the  more  shame  upon  me  for 
saying  it  of  my  father's  home,  almost  intolerable.  And 
Mr.  Pegg — dear  Pinto,  how  I  should  miss  him!  in  a 
purely  friendly  way  of  course. 

Fully  realizing  for  the  first  time  the  bitterness  of 
my  situation  I  refused  a  second  sugared  bun  and  ris- 
ing remarked  that  as  Sebastian  expected  dinner  guests 
we  had  best  retire  and  obtain  a  little  rest  before  it 
was  time  to  dress. 

Of  course  my  intention  was  in  part  to  leave  the 
lovers  together  for  a  properly  brief  interval,  but  some- 
what to  my  surprise  Peaches  rose  also  and  said  she 
would  accompany  me.  My  heart  was  heavy,  and  for 
once  I  would  have  preferred  to  be  alone.  But  she 
slipped  her  arm  about  my  neck,  and  we  started  for 
our  rooms,  chatting  amiably  while  the  men  settled 
down  for  a  cigar. 

Now  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Markheim  pal- 
ace was  that  it  gave  no  appearance  of  modernity. 
Though  it  was  in  point  of  fact  less  than  ten  years 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  161 

built,  it  was  so  cunningly  designed,  so  convincingly  ar- 
ranged, with  such  perfection  of  detail  that  it  possessed 
an  air  of  old  mystery  difficult  to  define,  and  un- 
der ordinary  circumstances  most  fascinating — a  real 
achievement  On  the  part  of  architect  and  decorator 
alike.  The  ancient  furniture  stood  so  easily  in  the 
background  provided  for  it  that  one  could  have  sworn 
the  walls  had  been  made  before  it;  the  modern  light- 
ing was  so  well  handled  as  to  be  absolutely  unob- 
trusive. 

Slowly,  affectionately,  we  crossed  the  main  hall, 
pausing  to  look  at  the  chased  armor  on  the  two  silent 
figures  at  the  foot  of  the  beautiful  winding  stairs.  A 
Gobelin  tapestry  fluttered  faintly  on  the  wall  above 
us,  stirred  by  the  gentle  sunset  wind  from  the  spring- 
scented  river  below,  and  the  lingering  twilight  filled 
the  great  hall  with  mysterious  shadows.  There  was 
not  another  soul  in  sight  and  not  a  sound  to  be  heard 
except  the  distant  murmur  of  the  men's  talk  and  the 
voice  of  a  pleasure  boat  distantly  upon  the  water.  I 
accompanied  Alicia  up  the  stairs,  feeling  as  if  I  were 
in  some  enchanted  palace  of  medieval  days,  and  above, 
the  long  dim  corridor  in  which  the  lamps  had  not  yet 
been  lit  was  ghostly  in  the  pale  glimmer  from  its  high 
mullioned  windows. 

"Isn't  it  spooky?"  said  Peaches  in  a  low  tone. 

"Yes!"  I  replied,  whispering  involuntarily.  "One 
might  almost  expect  to  see  a  ghost!" 

And  scarcely  had  I  spoken  the  words  when  Peaches, 
the  supernormal,  who  was  a  trifle  ahead  of  me  by 
now,  uttered  a  shriek  and  leaned  trembling  against  the 
stone  wall  of  the  passageway.  But  for  a  moment  I 
could  not  come  to  her  aid.  My  limbs  seemed  frozen, 
paralyzed.  For  there  suddenly  and  soundlessly  a  form 


162  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

was  towering  vaguely  before  us,  its  white  face  lumin- 
ous in  a  shaft  of  uncanny  light. 
It  was  the  Duke  di  Monteventi! 


XI 

AFTER  one  horrible  endless  moment  the  figure  moved 
slightly  and  the  corridor  was  flooded  with  the  soft 
mellow  light  from  half  a  dozen  electric  sconces. 

With  a  half-choked  cry  of  "Sandy!"  upon  her  lips 
Peaches  moved  toward  him,  only  to  stop  short,  her 
face  going  completely  blank.  The  man  was  a  servant, 
a  valet  presumably,  carrying  a  folded  suit  of  clothing 
carefully  over  one  arm  and  wearing  soft  felt  shoes, 
which  had  been  the  secret  of  his  noiseless  approach. 
His  hair  was  thickly  gray  and  his  face  was  lined  and 
scarred.  He  looked  perhaps  ten  years  older  than 
Sandro — and  yet  the  likeness  was  there — unmistak- 
able, though  in  the  full  light  not  by  any  means  so 
perfect. 

"I  beg  pardon,  ladies,"  he  said  in  a  measured  voice, 
withdrawing  another  step.  "The  lights  should  have 
been  on." 

Then  with  a  little  bow  he  passed  noiselessly  down 
the  corridor  and  entered  one  of  the  bedrooms,  presum- 
ably that  occupied  by  Markheim- himself. 

Peaches  made  a  little  involuntary  gesture  as  if  to 
follow  him,  stretching  out  her  hands  toward  his  un- 
conscious back,  and  then,  as  the  door  closed  upon  him, 
turned  to  me,  her  amber  eyes  afire.  She  seized  me 
by  the  wrist  in  a  manner  positively  painful  and  dragged 
me  into  her  room,  where  she  caused  me  to  sit  down 
abruptly  and  without  personal  selection  upon  a  sort 
of  hassock,  the  while  she  towered  over  me,  fairly 

163 


164?  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

glowing  with  animation — far,  far,  more  like  her  old 
self  than  she  had  been  for  almost  six  years. 

"Free!"  she  said.  "Was  it?  Was  it?  Oh,  Free 
— say  something!" 

"It  couldn't  have  been!"  I  replied  shakily.  "And 
yet  the  resemblance — it  was  extraordinary !" 

"It  was  a  miracle!"  said  Peaches.  "No  two  people 
could  look  so  much  alike." 

"He  had  a  brother,"  I  began  doubtfully,  "who  was 
merely  supposed  to  be  dead.  Sandro  would  have 
known  you  at  once." 

"But  didn't  he?"  she  questioned,  striding  up  and 
down  the  room  with  her  long,  clean  gesture  of  body. 
"IWhy  didn't  he  speak  at  once?  He  was  too  much 
amazed !" 

"Nonsense!"  I  exclaimed.  "How  could  he  be 
amazed,  when  as  a  servant  in  this  house — in  all  prob- 
ability Sebastian's  valet — he  must  have  known  in  ad- 
vance all  about  your  coming  here !" 

"That's  so,"  said  Peaches.  "And,  of  course  there 
are  differences — the  grayness,  the  lines  in  his  face. 
But  something  may  have  happened  to  him." 

"Very  likely!"  I  replied  dryly.  "Considering  we 
have  heard  from  Cousin  Abby  that  he  was  killed  in 
action." 

"But  it  may  have  been  a  mistake,"  she  whispered. 
"Stranger  things  have  happened.  And  a  servant! 
No — even  if  he  had  gone  quite  mad  and  forgotten 
everything  that  would  hardly  be  possible." 

"Servant  or  not,  if  it  is  he,  why  on  earth  shouldn't 
he  recognize  you?"  I  demanded.  "That's  the  sort  of 
encounter  which  is  supposed  to  bring  people  to  their 
senses,  you  know." 

"But  didn't  Ke  recognize  me?"  she  replied  with  a 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  165 

doubt  willfully  sustained.  "Just  for  an  instant,  I  was 
so  sure!  Well!" 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  about  it?"  I  said.  "If 
by  chance  it  really  is  Sandro  it's  a  nice  situation,  I'm 
sure!  With  your  wedding  only  a  few  weeks  off  and, 
and — why,  good  gracious!  It's  simply  terrible!" 

But  Peaches  didn't  look  as  if  she  thought  it  was 
simply  terrible — not  in  the  least.  She  was  terrifically 
excited,  but  more  beautiful  than  ever. 

"Free!"  she  cried.  "I  know  it  is  he!  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  could  feel  as  I  did — as  I  do,  at  the  encounter 
unless  it  is  Sandy?  Lots  of  times  people  know  things 
without  evidence.  And  this  is  one  of  those  times.  I 
feel  it  is  he.  I  don't  care  how  differently  he  looked 
when  the  lights  went  up." 

"But  how  on  earth  are  you  going  to  find  out?"  I 
urged.  ''Surely,  Peaches,  he  cannot  have  forgotten 
you!" 

"Forgotten!"  she  exclaimed,  stopping  short  in  her 
pacing  of  the  floor.  "Forgotten!  Good  heavens,  Free, 
you  don't  suppose  that  is  it,  do  you?" 

"Of  course  I  don't!"  I  snapped,  even  though  I  was 
not  entirely  sure  but  that  a  young  man  who  was  capa- 
ble of  taking  French  leave  in  the  way  that  Sandro  had 
six  years  previously,  was  not  capable  of  anything,  in- 
cluding having  an  affaire  de  cceur  with  Peaches  and 
then  failing  to  recollect  the  incident.  Some  men  are 
that  way ;  I  have  it  on  the  authority  of  The  Duchess. 

"This  man  is  older!"  I  went  on.  "And  we  don't 
know  for  certain  what  his 'position  in  the  household  is. 
The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  question  Sebastian 
about  him." 

"Won't  he  think  it  strange  if  I  let  him  on  to  the 


166  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

fact  that  I'm  stuck  on  his  valet?"  Peaches  considered 
in  her  disconcertingly  frank  way. 

"Good  gracious,  you  must  do  nothing  of  the  kind !" 
I  interposed.  "Besides,  you  don't  know  that  you  are, 
as  you  vulgarly  put  it,  stuck  on  him.  You  only  think 
it  may  be  Sandy.  Kindly  keep  that  in  mind,  my  dear!" 

"I  think  there  is  something  damn  funny  about  the 
whole  shooting  match!"  said  Peaches  vigorously.  "And 
I'm  going  to  the  bottom  of  it  mighty  pronto !" 

With  which  she  flung  from  the  room  to  don  one  of 
her  majestic  evening  gowns,  leaving  me  in  great  dis- 
tress of  mind  for  fear  of  what  she  would  do  next. 
To  array  myself  for  the  evening's  festivities  and  to  de- 
scend to  them  in  a  becomingly  dignified  manner  was 
no  easy  task,  but  by  the  greatest  effort  at  self-control 
I  accomplished  both  the  arrangement  of  my  toilet  and 
the  adjustment  of  my  manner  sufficiently  to  reappear 
in  polite  society  in  the  state  of  composure  due  to  my 
name  and  heritage  and  the  responsible  position  which  I 
occupied  toward  the  Pegg  family.  It  is  one  of  the  pen- 
alties of  a  great  name  that  one  must  ever  maintain 
the  aspect  of  a  painted  ancestor,  no  matter  what  tumult 
may  be  going  on  within  one.  And  though  I  admit  that 
I  was  in  a  profoundly  disturbed  state  of  mind,  and 
indeed  I  may  say,  shaken  to  the  very  depths  of  my 
romantic  soul  by  what  had  occurred  and  still  more  by 
what  might  occur,  I  believe  that  my  conduct  and. 
appearance  as  I  stood  smiling  beside  the  unconscious 
Mr.  Markheim,  aiding  him  in  the  reception  of  his 
guests,  would  have  been  wholly  approved  by  my  dear 
father.  And  I  rather  relished  the  sense  of  standing 
upon  a  species  of  social  volcano. 

When  Peaches  appeared  on  the,  as  I  may  call  it, 
haunted  stairway,   a  gasp  of  delighted   astonishment 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  167 

went  up  from  the  assemblage.  She  was  arrayed  in  a 
sheathllke  gown  of  golden  sequins  that  rivaled  but 
did  not  surpass  the  glory  of  her  hair,  and  though  she 
was  without  jewels  except  for  her  ring,  she  shone 
with  a  radiance  such  as  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Her 
wonderful  hair  lay  close  and  glistening  upon  her  head 
like  a  helmet  of  burnished  metal,  and  this  taken  with 
her — er — martial  though  decollete  costume  gave  her 
somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  young  Pallas  Athene 
with  a  redeeming  touch  of — er — jazz,  if  you  know 
what  I  mean.  At  any  rate  she  was  magnificent.  And 
if  a  trifle  pale,  it  was  from  the  intense  wave  of  new 
life  which  had  flooded  her  during  the  past  few  hours, 
and  her  eyes  were  like  those  of  that  terribly  incoherent 
tiger  of  Blake's. 

Well,  I  will  not  digress  by  describing  the  feast 
which  Sebastian  gave  as  a  housewarming  for  his  lady 
love.  The  field  of  such  description  has  been  widely 
covered  by  every  chronicler  from  Balzac  to  W.  D. 
Griffiths.  Suffice  to  say  that  it  was  a  very  sumptuous 
affair,  attended  by  a  more  or  less  cosmopolitan  crowd, 
comprising  friends  and  neighbors  alike,  and  affording, 
I  dare  say,  a  reasonable  amount  of  enjoyment  to  those 
present. 

Under  different  circumstances  I  should  have  enjoyed 
it  myself,  being,  as  I  am,  possessed  of  a  very  profound 
sense  of  the  solemnity  of  social  functions  and  their 
proper  conducting.  But  upon  this  occasion  I  was  so 
taken  up  with  being  on  the  outlook  for  a  glimpse  of 
that  mysterious  valet  among  the  other  servants  that 
I  only  succeeded  in  performing  the  mechanics  of  a 
pleasant  evening.  But  nevertheless  I  was  aware  that 
the  affair,  considering  that  it  was  more  or  less  im- 
promptu due  to  our  unexpected  arrival,  went  off  very 


168  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

well,  and  without  my  once  seeing  the  person  for  whom 
I  was  automatically  seeking. 

Well,  at  about  half  after  eleven  that  night,  when 
the  last  guest  had  departed  and  we  four — Mr.  Pegg, 
Alicia,  Sebastian  and  myself — were  assembled  in  the 
library  for  a  good-night  discussion,  Peaches  laid  her 
trap,  if  so  I  may  call  it,  for  the  information  she  de- 
sired. She  became  suddenly  domestic  and  affection- 
ate over  a  glass  of  milk  and  vichy  and  I  watched  keenly 
as  she  led  up  to  her  subject  with  a  deceitful  air  of  inno- 
cence of  which  I  would  not  have  believed  her  capable. 
Markheim  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  at  her  interest, 
and  dear  Mr.  Pegg  stood  under  the  Madonna  chewing 
on  a  big  cigar  and  nodding  his  approval. 

"It  was  a  wonderful  dinner,  Sebastian!"  said 
Peaches,  her  big  eyes  limpid  pools  of  approval.  "What 
a  peach  of  a  chef  you  have!" 

"I  am  glad  you  approve!"  said  the  banker.  "We 
will  keep  him  on." 

"There  are  an  awful  bunch  of  servants  here," 
Peaches  commented.  "It  will  seem  funny,  keeping 
house  with  them  after  one  Chinaman,  and  sometimes 
none,  out  on  the  ranch.  I  suppose  I'll  have  a  maid. 
But  if  I  do  I'm  going  to  teach  her  pinochle!  Have 
you  a  valet,  Mark  ?" 

"In  a  way,"  replied  Markheim.  "In  a  way  I  have 
— and  then  again  I  haven't!" 

At  this  astonishing  announcement  you  may  well 
believe  that  a  painful  sensation  occurred  in  my  breast. 
I  positively  started  out  of  my  seat,  though  controlling 
myself  instanter,  and  even  Peaches  gave  a  funny  little 
gasp,  which  she,  however,  contrived  to  turn  into  a 
species  of  inane  giggle,  spluttering  over  her  milk. 

"What — what  do  you  mean  by  that?"  she  said. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 169 

"Only  that  he's  given  notice,"  Markheim  replied. 
"Nothing  unusual  about  that  nowadays,  I  assure  you, 
my  dear.  And  I'm  sorry  he's  going,"  he  added.  "The 
best  chap  I've  had — came  to  me  six  months  ago,  and 
been  absolute  perfection  ever  since!" 

"Why  do  you  let  him  go?"  asked  Peaches,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  fiance  as  if  she  would  like  to  hypnotize 
him  into  telling  her  more  than  she  asked.  "Why  not 
give  him  more  wages  or  something?" 

"It's  not  a  question  of  money,"  Sebastian  explained. 
"It  seems  he  dislikes  women — regular  misanthrope. 
It's  all  your  fault,  my  dear.  He  gave  notice  as  soon 
as  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  get  married!" 

"Oh!"  said  Peaches.  "Then  it  was  some  time  ago 
that  he — he  quit?  Not  just  to-day?" 

"About  a  month  ago,"  replied  her  lover.  "He  ex- 
pected to  leave  before  you  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
only  you  are  ahead  of  time.  Great  Scott,  Alicia,  you 
seem  fearfully  interested  in  the  fellow?  Have  you 
seen  him,  or  what  is  the  idea  anyhow?" 

"No,"  lied  Peaches  calmly.  "I  just  got  to  thinking 
about  servants  in  general  anc{  about  the  personal- 
servant  idea  in  particular.  I  don't  know  that  the  plan 
has  my  O.  K.  It's  an  embarrassing  idea — makes  me 
feel  like  a  boob  to  have  anybody  dress  me,  unless  to 
hook  a  fool  dress  up  the  back  perhaps.  And  a  China- 
man could  do  that,  you  know.  What  do  you  call  the 
bird — by  his  front  or  hind  name?" 

"I  call  him  Wilkes,"  said  Markheim,  laughing.  "And 
you  are  too  amusing,  my  dear.  You  are  not  obliged 
to  have  a  maid,  you  know.  It's  quite  conceivable  that 
I  can  learn  to  hook  a  gown !" 

"Or  unhook  it !"  laughed  Mr.  Pegg. 


170  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

This  was  too  much  for  me.  I  bade  them  all  good 
night  and  departed  in  high  dudgeon. 

The  enormous  main  hall  was  but  dimly  lighted  and 
I  crossed  it,  not  without  hesitancy,  and  when  at  the 
foot  of  the  staircase  a  hand  was  laid  upon  my  arm  I 
nearly  screamed  aloud.  In  fact  I  attempted  to  scream 
but  was  so  frightened  that  I  only  accomplished  a 
squeak.  However,  it  was  no  supernatural  apparition, 
but  Peaches,  who  had  overtaken  me,  and  who  dragged 
me  to  my  room,  where  she  slammed  the  door  behind 
us  in  breathless  triumph. 

"There!"  she  cried.     "Did  you  hear  him?" 

"I  did !"  I  replied.  "And  I  think  your  father  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  himself,  at  his  age,  too!" 

"Oh,  forget  dad!"  she  cried  impatiently.  "I  know 
he's  a  roughneck,  but  that's  not  a  weakness.  I  mean 
about  Sandy?" 

"Oh !"  said  I.    "Well,  what  about  him— if  it  is  he ?" 

"If  it  is?"  said  Peaches.  "Have  you  any  doubts 
now  ?  Leaving  as  soon  as  he  heard  about  me,  and  then 
being  caught  by  my  unexpected  arrival.  Didn't  you 
listen?" 

"It  may  be  just  a  coincidence,"  I  demurred,  though 
in  truth  I  was  deeply  interested.  "And  he's  been  here 
six  months.  He  must  have  heard  of  your  engagement 
before — or  at  least  been  aware  that  Sebastian  knew 
you." 

"Perhaps,"  admitted  Alicia,  pacing  up  and  down  like 
a  substantial  sunbeam.  "But  that  doesn't  satisfy  me. 
There's  only  one  way  to  settle  the  question.  I've  got 
to  have  a  private  talk  with  that  man." 

"But  how?"  I  gasped. 

"You've  got  to  arrange  it,"  replied  Peaches  firmly. 

"Impossible!"  I  squeaked.  "What  an  idea!  Though, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  171 

of  course,  you  could  meet  him  secretly  in  the  garden!" 

"The  very  thing!"  exclaimed  my  charge  with  en- 
thusiasm. "Here — I  will  write  a  note  and  date  him 
up,  and  you  will  see  that  it  gets  to  him.  I'll  meet  him 
in  the  rose  garden  at  midnight  to-morrow." 

She  sat  herself  down  at  the  exquisite  old  Moorish 
escritoire  and  taking  pen  and  paper  wrote  in  her  la- 
bored, painstaking  fashion,  her  head  on  one  side,  her 
tongue  firmly  between  her  teeth,  the  hair  curling  at 
the  nape  of  her  neck  like  that  of  an  innocent  child 
rather  than  a  desperate  maiden  in  a  most  thrilling  sit- 
uation. 

"There!"  she  said  at  length,  slipping  the  missive 
into  an  envelope  and  handing  it  to  me.  "There  you 
are,  Free.  Now  be  sure  he  gets  it,  and  let  me  know 
how  he  acts.  It  doesn't  need  any  answer!" 

With  which  she  actually  had  the  impudence  to  kiss 
me  gayly  on  the  cheek  and  run  away  to  bed,  leaving 
me  standing  as  if  paralyzed,  the  note  in  one  hand, 
and  the  problem  of  handling  the  preposterous  situation 
staring  me  in  the  face. 

My  dear  father  used  to  say  that  only  those  who 
must  be  ashamed  need  be  afraid,  and  as  this  matter 
of  the  note  was  really  none  of  my  personal  affair  I 
need  not,  I  suppose,  have  feared  for  the  consequences ; 
and  yet  I  confess  that  I  was  filled  with  fear.  The  day 
had  been  interminable,  and  now  it  seemed  that  it  was 
not  yet  over,  though  the  clock  pointed  to  a  quarter 
after  twelve.  At  such  a  circumstantial  hour  I  had  no 
mind  to  venture  out  into  a  corridor  in  which  I  had 
recently  encountered  a  very  fair  imitation  of  a  ghost. 
Indeed,  there  had  been  from  the  start  of  our  acquain- 
tance something  very  mysterious  about  the  Duke  di 
Monteventi,  and  death,  it  seemed,  did  not  offer  any 


172  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

solution,  but  rather  extended  the  obscurity  which  sur- 
rounded him. 

It  was  my  personal  opinion  that  he  was  dead,  and 
that  this  valet  creature  who  had  startled  us  in  such  a 
fashion  merely  bore  an  accidental  resemblance  to  San- 
dro.  Yet  then  again  it  was  so  much  more  romantic  to 
consider  his  being  resurrected  as  a  possibility.  But  if 
it  were  Sandro,  why  on  earth  should  he,  who  had  the 
entree  to  every  fashionable  house  in  Europe,  reappear 
in  the  capacity  of  a  servant? 

Perchance  it  was  not  Sandro,  but  his  supposedly 
murdered  elder  brother.  That  would,  of  course,  ac- 
count for  the  resemblance.  This  idea  struck  me  as  be- 
ing remarkably  intelligent,  and  I  at  once  began  to 
search  my  mind  for  its  literary  beginnings.  My  dear 
father  used  to  say  that  all  ideas  had  literary  beginnings 
and  all  beginnings  contained  a  literary  idea.  But 
neither  Deadwood  Dick,  Edwin  Arnold,  Walter  Pater 
or  The  Duchess  seemed  to  have  supplied  me  with  the 
thought,  strive  as  I  would  to  place  it  among  them. 
I  was  forced  to  claim  it  as  original,  and  perhaps  merely 
the  theme  for  a  story's  beginning.  And  despite  my 
dear  father's  precept,  I  do  verily  believe  that  I  am 
at  times  productive  of  ideas  quite  my  own,  as,  for 
example,  in  the  realm  of  love,  wherein  my  manifold 
ideas  must  have  no  other  origin  than  my  own  brain, 
inasmuch  as  the  only  books  on  the  subject  which  we 
possessed  at  home  were  written  by  a  Frenchman  named 
Balzac,  and  though  ostensibly  in  English  translation 
they  were  mostly  set  forth  in  asterisks,  dots  and  dashes. 

But  I  digress.  Let  us  return  to  the  privacy  of  my 
chamber  at  the  villa,  and  the  note  to  Wilkes,  which 
somehow  must  be  disposed  of. 

My  first  inclination  was  to  procure  a  two-cent  stamp 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 173 

and  mail  it — an  obvious  solution.  And  yet  I  hesitated, 
because  if  by  chance  it  should  miscarry  and  fall  into 
the  wrong  hands,  what  dreadful  consequences  might 
not  ensue?  What  a,  as  one  might  say,  roughhouse 
might  it  not — er — precipitate !  No,  mailing  would  not 
do,  because  at  best  I  might  be  unable  to  find  a  mail  box 
or  post  office  before  late  the  next  day,  and  I  would 
certainly  be  unwilling  to  offer  a  note  so  addressed  to 
one  of  the  other  household  servants. 

Furthermore,  I  was  hampered  by  a  lack  of  familiar- 
ity with  the  house.  Doubtless  there  was  a  servants' 
mail  box  somewhere  about  the  service  stairs,  if  only 
I  knew  where.  But  to  wander  round  looking  for  it 
would  be  both  nerve-racking  and  indiscreet,  particu- 
larly at  such  an  hour.  Finally  in  desperation  I  was 
half  tempted  to  burn  the  wretched  thing,  and  forbore 
only  because  of  my  promise  to  Alicia.  My  brain  felt 
as  if  it  were  on  fire.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

All  at  once  the  great  room  with  its  wide  spaciousness 
and  light  hangings  seemed  suffocatingly  hot.  I  crossed 
to  the  window,  and  first  extinguishing  the  light  in 
order  not  to  attract  the  night  insects,  opened  it  and 
sat  down  beside  it,  the  better  to  meditate  upon  my 
course  of  action.  I  was  half  determined  to  take  the 
whole  matter  to  Pinto  Pegg  in  the  morning  and  allow 
him  to  settle  our  minds  for  us,  even  against  Alicia's 
will. 

But  as  I  reclined  upon  the  window-sill  the  vision 
of  my  own  somewhat  barren  girlhood  rose  before 
me  like  a  reproachful  ghost,  and  I  had  no  heart  to 
stifle  the  sequel  to  that  romance  which  I  had  seen 
bud,  unfold  and  blossom  in  the  tropic  air  at  San  Remo. 
Holding  the  letter  in  my  lap  it  seemed  to  burn  through 
the  heavy  silk  of  my  gown,  such  was  the  fire  which 


174  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

had  inspired  its  writing.  No  matter  what  might  come 
—  what  disillusionment,  what  disappointment  —  it 
should  be  delivered.  I  vowed  that  through  no  fault 
of  mine  should  Peaches  be  cheated  of  her  love;  and 
I  felt  myself  to  be  an  excellent  judge  of  love.  I  had 
looked  on  at  a  good  deal  of  it.  Indeed  as  I  sat  there 
it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  accomplished  a  great  lot 
of  looking  on  in  the  course  of  my  life.  And  scarcely 
had  this  commentary  crossed  my  mind  when,  quite  in 
line  with  my  usual  fortune,  I  found  myself  once  more 
an  observer,  though  unobserved. 

I  have  remarked  that  Mr.  Markheim's  villa  was 
built  upon  several  levels,  thus  permitting  the  windows 
on  one  wing  to  overlook  those  on  a  different  story  in 
another  portion  of  the  building,  and  that  there  were 
several  wings  or  sections  to  the  place,  so  arranged  that 
the  main  portions  were  well  isolated  from  each  other 
in  accordance  with  the  modern  ideas  of  comfort  and 
quiet.  Thus  the  living  rooms  were  in  the  main  body 
of  the  house,  the  library  was  at  the  extreme  end,  the 
bedrooms  in  one  wing,  and  the  kitchen  with  the  serv- 
ants' quarters  over  them  in  another  wing  at  the  ex- 
treme opposite  end  of  the  house  but  facing  the  guest 
rooms  across  a  wide  garden  space.  For  the  most  part 
the  service  quarters  opened  upon  a  hidden  court  of 
their  own  but  the  wide  row  of  windows  must  be,  I 
decided,  the  rooms  of  the  upper  servants. 

Once  possessed  of  this  thought  I  began  to  visualize 
the  interior  plan  of  the  house,  particularly  that  of  the 
corridor  which  would  lead  to  those  rooms.  By  a  little 
figuring  I  came  to  the  realization  that  they  were  in 
reality  on  the  same  level  as  my  own  chamber,  though 
actually  on  the  story  above — that  is  to  say,  the  third 
story  while  I  was  on  the  second.  To  reach  them  from 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  175 

within  the  house  meant  the  ascent  of  one  flight  of 
stairs,  whereas  if  one  were  to  get  out  onto  the  little 
balcony  below  me  and  cross  the  roof  of  the  porte- 
cochere,  one  would  bring  up  on  a  ledge  running  level 
with  the  third  story  of  the  opposite  wing;  a  by  no 
means  perilous  journey  unless  one  were  to  be  observed 
from  the  garden  below,  which  was  not  likely  at  night, 
modesty  being  the  only  thing  subjected  to  any  serious 
danger. 

While  I  was  meditating  upon  this  architectural  curi- 
osity a  light  appeared  in  one  of  those  third-story  win- 
dows, and  against  it  stood  the  figure  of  a  man.  It 
was  Wilkes — or  Sandro,  as  Peaches  insisted  upon  call- 
ing him.  I  could  see  him  very  plainly,  as  indeed  the 
whole  of  the  rather  small  simple  room  was  perfectly 
visible  and  he  stood  directly  under  the  electric  light. 
At  this  distance  his  resemblance  to  the  lost  duke  was 
certainly  remarkable.  He  was  alone  in  the  room,  which 
was  evidently  his  bedroom,  and  had  plainly  just  fin- 
ished with  Markheim,  for  he  carried  the  light  gray  suit 
which  Sebastian  had  worn  that  afternoon,  and  several 
pairs  of  boots. 

Fired  by  a  thought  which  offered  to  solve  my  prob- 
lem I  counted  the  windows  between  me  and  that  before 
which  he  stood.  There  were  fifteen;  his  was  the  six- 
teenth along  the  ledge.  To  walk  the  distance  along 
the  balcony,  over  the  intervening  roof  of  the  porte- 
cochere  was  no  task  at  all  to  one  who  had  been  living 
a  life  in  the  open  for  six  years,  and  there  was  very 
little  danger  of  my  being  observed  since  none  of  the 
windows  which  I  should  be  obliged  to  pass  were  those 
of  bedrooms — except  in  the  servants'  wing.  I  would 
wait  until  the  light  was  extinguished  and  then  play 
my  part. 


176  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

The  interval  between  my  resolution  and  the  moment 
for  its  execution  was  but  brief.  In  a  surprisingly  short 
time  the  light  in  the  man's  room  was  extinguished,  and 
then  I  had  only  to  wait  until  I  might  reasonably  sup- 
pose him  to  be  asleep — a  half  hour,  for  surely,  I 
thought,  a  tired  servant  would  take  no  longer.  At  the 
termination  of  this  period  I  removed  my  shoes  and 
put  on  a  pair  of  knitted  bedroom  slippers  with  felt 
soles — a  welcome  Christmas  offering  from  Galadia 
and  Boston — and  gathering  my  dress  about  me  with 
little  regard  for  the  dictates  of  modesty,  I  stepped  forth 
from  my  window  and  began  my  circumlocution. 

I  am  aware  that  this  performance  of  mine  would 
not  have  been  looked  upon  with  favor  by  Euphemia, 
nor  yet  by  the  members  of  our  home-mission  sewing 
circle,  yet  my  conscience  was  clear,  and  I  had  ever  been 
somewhat  at  a  loss  to  confine  my  behavior  strictly 
within  the  limits  of  the  society  in  which  I  had  been 
reared.  And  furthermore,  there  was  but  little  chance 
that  the  sewing  circle  or  indeed  my  sister  would  ever 
learn  of  the  incident,  and  as  my  dear  father  used  to 
say,  there  are  more  Lorelei  in  the  social  sea  than  ever 
come  out  of  it.  I  infer  that  he  intended  some  reference 
to  social  shipwrecks. 

And  had  my  circle  of  acquaintances  ever  become 
aware  of  my  behavior  upon  this  particular  occasion 
without  clearly  understanding  the  motive  which  actu- 
ated me  they  would  undoubtedly  have  wrecked  my 
standing.  In  point  of  fact  they  might  even  have  done 
so  with  the  fullest  understanding  of  my  motive — the 
act  being  itself  father  to  the  ostracism,  if  you  know 
what  I  mean,  and  motives  are  seldom  if  ever  con- 
sidered when  the  opportunity  for  passing  judgment 
occurs. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 177 

But  at  the  moment  of  emerging  upon  the  narrow 
ornamental  balcony  I  was  concerned  with  none  of  these 
possibilities,  which  occurred  to  me  only  at  a  later 
date.  I  was  too  thoroughly  occupied  with  making  a 
noiseless,  inconspicuous  progress,  and  with  wondering 
whether  the  valet  was  high  class  enough  to  sleep  with 
his  window  open.  I  trusted  that  he  did  so,  and  ex- 
pected it,  for  he  was  a  clean,  bronzed  sort  of  man,  and 
in  truth  it  would  prove  utter  frustration  for  me  if  he 
should  be  in  the  habit  of  sleeping  with  it  closed. 

It  was  with  something  of  the  emotion  which  I  fancy 
that  a  participant  in  a  motion-picture  drama  must  ex- 
perience that  I,  not  without  some  difficulty  in  climbing 
the  intervening  railings,  approached  my  goal,  silently 
as  the— er — wings  of  night,  as  one  might  say,  feeling 
my  way  along  the  wall  and  taking  careful  count  of  the 
windows  as  I  went,  the  garden  a  still  pool  of  blackness 
below  me,  in  which  the  few  scattered  stars  of  the  orer- 
cast  sky  found  no  reflection.  It  was  really  very  dark 
for  such  an  enterprise,  and  though  the  fact  was  un- 
doubtedly of  advantage  in  one  way  it  made  my  prog- 
ress uncomfortably  slow,  the  more  so  as  I  had  novr  no 
lighted  window  to  guide  me,  and  was  compelled  to 
advance  by  the  sense  of  touch  alone. 

I  passed  the  roof  of  the  porte-cochere  with  success, 
climbed  on  to  the  ledge  leading  outside  of  the  servants' 
wing,  the  letter  safe  within  my  bosom.  There  I  began 
again  my  feeling  of  the  window  sills,  this  time  with 
the  added  wish  for  clinging  to  them  for  support  as 
well  as  their  enumeration,  for  this  was  the  most  peril- 
ous portion  of  my  undertaking,  there  being  only  a 
gutter  along  the  ledge,  and  no  railing  of  any  sort. 
And  after  an  interminable  period  I  reached  my  goal — 
the  sixteenth  window.  It  was  open ! 


178  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

With  infinite  caution  I  slid  past  the  shutter,  holding 
my  breath  lest  I  be  heard;  and  flattening  myself 
against  the  wall  I  extracted  the  letter  from  its  hiding 
place  and  peered  round  the  side  of  the  aperture,  doubt- 
ful how  best  to  dispose  of  it  soundlessly. 

The  casement  was  not  only  open  but  open  to  its 
widest  capacity.  And  while  I  was  rapidly  consider- 
ing whether  I  should  simply  lay  the  letter  on  the  sill, 
trusting  that  the  wind  would  not  blow  it  away,  or  if 
I  should  drop  it  inside,  risking  some  sound  that  might 
waken  the  sleeper,  the  moon  slid  from  under  a  cloud, 
and  on  the  instant  the  whole  interior  became  visible 
to  me. 

It  was  empty ! 

The  bed  had  not  even  been  disturbed,  and  the  door 
was  closed.  As  well  as  I  could  see  in  the  dim  light 
the  only  clothing  lying  about  was  that  which  the  man 
had  brought  from  his  master's  room,  and  this  was 
neatly  placed  upon  a  chair,  even  as  I  had  observed 
him  to  dispose  of  it  nearly  an  hour  since.  It  was  a 
most  perplexing  matter.  But  without  waiting  to  con- 
sider it  further  I  reached  within  and  laid  the  letter 
upon  a  chair  beside  the  window  where  the  occupant 
could  not  fail  to  observe  it  upon  his  return,  and  forth- 
with withdrew  the  upper  portion  of  my  body.  As  I 
did  so  I  heard  a  sound  which,  in  the  language  of  my 
favorite  authors,  froze  my  blood.  Someone  was  walk- 
ing upon  the  gravel  of  the  path  directly  beneath  me. 

I  stood  as  if  petrified,  listening  intently.  For  a 
moment,  nothing,  and  my  heart  relaxed  a  little,  as  the 
supposition  occurred  to  me  that  it  might  have  been 
some  animal  bent  upon  nocturnal  adventures.  But 
hardly  had  this  reassurance  registered  in  my  brain 
when  it  came  again.  Without  doubt  someone  was 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  179 

making  a  stealthy  progress  along  that  side  of  the 
house  upon  which  I  stood  in  an  unusual,  not  to  say 
compromising,  position.  And  in  another  moment  my 
fears  were  justified,  for  out  of  the  abyss  below  me 
darted  a  dark  and  noiseless  figure,  followed  at  close 
range  by  a  second  one.  Both  crossed  the  moon  patch 
like  wraiths,  vanishing  instantly  into  the  shadows  of 
the  shrubbery  beyond.  Two  men!  What  were  they 
about?  No  good,  that  was  certain.  And  what,  in 
merciful  heaven's  name,  was  I  to  do  about  it? 

To  give  the  alarm  from  my  present  position  was  im- 
possible. Moreover,  if  I  were  to  remain  where  I  was 
the  two  in  the  shrubbery  might  at  any  instant  dis- 
cover my  presence  upon  the  ledge,  for  the  moon  in 
illuminating  the  room  behind  me  was,  of  course,  also 
rendering  me  clearly  visible.  To  retreat  to  my  own 
quarters  by  the  route  by  which  I  had  come  was  now 
obviously  impossible.  There  remained  but  one  course, 
and  I  took  it.  Without  further  ado  I  picked  up  my 
skirts  and  climbed  into  the  bedchamber  of  my  host's 
bodyservant. 


XII 

ONCE  inside  the  room  I  sank  upon  a  chair  for  an 
instant,  gasping  for  breath  and  quite  all  of  a  tremble. 
But  after  a  little  I  regained  some  control  of  my  facul- 
ties, which  I  now  directed  toward  effecting  my  escape. 

From  the  adjoining  room  came  the  noises  of  a 
heavy  sleeper — snores  and  wheezy  breathing.  The 
head  butler,  without  doubt;  a  great  hulk  of  a  man 
whom  it  would  be  no  easy  task  to  rouse  even  if  I  were 
in  a  position  to  rouse  any  one,  which,  of  course,  I  was 
not — now  less  than  ever.  Aside  from  his  strenuous 
slumbers  the  wing  was  silent,  yet  somehow  portent- 
ously so,  as  only  a  house  of  sleepers  can  be.  Beyond 
my  refuge  a  night  light  was  burning  in  the  hall.  I 
could  discern  this  from  the  crack  beneath  the  door. 
Obviously  I  had  no  choice  but  to  leave  in  that  direction, 
even  though  it  was  highly  probable  that  I  should  en- 
counter Wilkes  in  the  corridor.  Still,  such  misadven- 
ture must  be  chanced.  With  madly  beating  heart  I 
crossed  the  room  and  stealthily  tried  the  handle.  Im- 
agine my  amazement  when  I  found  that  the  door  was 
locked — from  the  inside!  The  man  must  be  in  the 
room  with  me! 

This  thought  so  filled  me  with  terror  that  throwing 
caution  to  the  winds  I  unlocked  and  opened  the  door, 
fleeing  down  the  dimly  lighted  corridor  like  a  bat  out 
of  Hades,  as  Peaches  would  put  it,  and  plunging  down 
the  first  staircase  that  appeared. 

180 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  181 

The  hall  below  was  completely  dark,  and  I  must 
have  taken  a  wrong  turning,  because  in  what  seemed 
about  two  minutes  I  was  completely  lost.  For  once 
my  nerves  gave  way  completely.  I  wanted  to  shriek 
but  could  only  make  a  little  clicking  sound  which  no- 
body seemed  to  hear.  Then  I  began  to  run,  because 
I  thought  something  was  after  me — I  did  not  know 
what.  I  couldn't  see  anything,  and  yet  I  felt  over- 
powered by  terror.  It  flashed  across  my  brain  that 
perhaps  Sandro — or  rather,  Wilkes — did  not  need  to 
unlock  his  door  in  order  to  leave  his  room;  perhaps 
he  came  through  the  closed  door  and  only  kept  it 
locked  to  prevent  people  from  discovering  that  he 
didn't  really  exist. 

The  thought  gave  new  impetus  to  my  speed,  and 
for  time  uncounted  I  flew  about  that  horribly  vast 
and  silent  mansion  as  noisily  and  irrationally  as  if 
I  were  myself  some  poor  lost  spirit.  I  seemed  wholly 
unable  to  find  my  way  back  to  my  own  apartment  or 
to  locate  any  familiar  door  at  which  I  might  venture 
to  knock  and  beg  for  help.  And  the  realization  that 
those  two  night  prowlers  in  the  garden  might  at  any 
moment  break  into  whatever  part  of  the  house  I  was 
in  at  the  instant  did  nothing  to  induce  a  greater  serenity 
of  mind. 

Moreover,  I  could  not  seem  to  find  a  flight  of  stairs 
leading  upward,  and  when  at  length  I  emerged  from 
the  service  wing  it  was  to  find  myself  in  the  ghostly 
main  hall  once  more.  And  there  it  was  that  a  sudden 
unexpected  encounter  with  reality  shocked  me  back 
to  some  degree  of  common  sense. 

From  this  main  hall,  which  was  two  stories  in  height 
a  corridor  led  directly  to  the  library  at  the  extreme  left 
end  of  the  main  building. 


182  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Other  rooms  opened  from  the  corridor,  of  course, 
but  the  door  directly  at  the  end  was  that  of  the  Ma- 
donna room,  as  I  called  it,  and  as  I,  emerging  from  the 
servants'  entrance,  advanced  toward  the  foot  of  the 
main  stair  I  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  ground,  for 
from  that  far  doorway  gleamed  a  faint  light. 

Now  though  it  is  true  that  anything  pertaining  to 
the  supernatural,  mesmeric  or  ghostly  is  capable  of 
upsetting  my  equanimity  to  a  very  considerable  de- 
gree, in  the  realm  of  obviously  human  activity  I  have 
never  been  a  coward  or  a  laggard.  Never  shall  it 
be  said  that  the  last  Freedom  Talbot,  the  tenth  to 
bear  that  illustrious  name,  ever  disgraced  it  by  cow- 
ardice, though  but  a  mere  woman.  Not  for  nothing 
did  I  bear  the  title  of  those  men  who  had  given  their 
lives  and  made  their  fortunes  in  the  cause  for  which 
they  were  baptized. 

"In  time  of  danger  an  ounce  of  action  is  worth  a 
pound  of  theory,"  my  dear  father  used  to  say;  and 
his  precepts  are  in  my  blood  no  less  than  in  my  mind. 
And  upon  this  occasion  I  was  not  backward. 

There  was  no  time  now  to  give  the  alarm;  it  was, 
as  the  saying  goes,  up  to  me.  Waiting  only  long 
enough  to  put  my  right  foot  back  into  its  knitted 
slipper,  the  heel  of  which  had  come  off  during  my 
flight,  I  immediately  stalked  to  one  of  the  suits  of 
armor  which  guarded  the  staircase,  and  removed  the 
great  sword  which  lay  within  its  hollow  grasp.  Thus 
armed  I  began  a  stealthy  progress  toward  the  library 
door. 

The  sword  was  heavy  and  difficult  to  carry  but  I 
was  in  no  mood  to  be  put  off  by  a  trifle  of  that  kind. 
Whatever  those  two  villains  were  up  to  in  that  library 
I  was  determined  to  put  an  end  to  immediately.  I 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  183 

had  no  fear  that  a  common  thief  would  dare  to  shoot 
at  my  gray  head,  and  the  now  perfect  respectability 
of  my  situation  gave  me  confidence.  Nevertheless  I 
took  care  to  make  no  unnecessary  noise.  Grasping  my 
weapon  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  ready  for  any 
emergency  I  sidled  along  the  wall  of  the  corridor, 
concealing  myself  behind  the  portiere  which  hung  at 
the  door,  and  cautiously  peeked  within. 

On  the  mantelpiece  a  little  electric  lantern  was  burn- 
ing, and  before  it  stood  Wilkes  the  valet,  his  forearms 
resting  upon  the  shelf,  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  and 
his  face  upturned  to  the  Madonna  as  if  in  worship. 
Never  have  I  seen  a  face  more,  as  it  were,  glorified 
than  was  his  at  that  moment.  His  very  soul,  if  I  may 
be  so  indelicate  as  to  mention  such  a  thing,  seemed  to 
be  in  his  eyes,  and  an  inner  light  illuminated  his 
countenance,  almost  obliterating  the  lines  and  making 
him  appear  far  younger  than  I  had  at  first  thought. 
The  scar  on  his  temple  blazed  like  a  white  star  as 
the  lamplight  struck  it,  giving  him  an  uncanny  aspect 
that  was  yet  beautiful,  and  I  could  not  but  note  the 
easy  grace  with  which  he  maintained  his  posture.  But 
most  remarkable  of  all  was  the  hunger  with  which 
he  feasted  his  eyes  upon  that  painting. 

In  the  feeble  illumination  the  Madonna  herself 
was  smiling  back  at  him,  and  seemed  almost  to  waver 
and  lean  gently  toward  him.  It  was  a  strangely  in- 
timate scene — almost  I  felt  as  if  I  had  intruded  upon 
an  interview  between  lovers.  And  yet  that  was  all 
nonsense,  as  I  presently  realized.  Immensely  relieved 
that  the  intruder  was,  after  all,  no  intruder  but  one 
of  the  household  servants,  I  quietly  hid  the  sword 
behind  the  folds  of  the  portiere,  leaning  it  against 
the  inner  wall  as  unobtrusively  as  possible.  But  the 


184 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

man  before  the  picture  would  not,  I  think,  have  noticed 
had  I  dropped  the  clumsy  thing,  so  absorbed  was  he. 
And  then,  when  I  had  disposed  of  my  armament,  I 
entered  the  apartment  and  came  within  three  feet  of 
him  before  I  spoke. 

"Wilkes,"  I  said  quietly,  "what  are  you  doing  here?" 

The  man  jumped  as  though  he  had  been  shot,  and 
spun  round  to  face  me.  All  self-control  was  mo- 
mentarily gone  from  him,  and  that  was  a  terrible 
thing  to  see.  His  jaw  had  dropped  and  the  lips  quiv- 
ered pitifully,  his  whole  face  shook  convulsively  and 
his  shoulders  heaved.  Then  by  a  supreme  effort  he 
regained  his  self-mastery.  His  figure  grew  quiet, 
the  shoulders  drooped  in  the  manner  which  seemed 
habitual  to  them,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  hardened, 
adding  the  years  which  his  enraptured  pre-occupation 
had  temporarily  stripped  from  him.  Once  more  he 
was  the  unobtrusive  body  servant. 

"I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Talbot,"  he  said.  "I  was 
startled." 

"So  was  I,"  I  commented  dryly.  "I  thought  you 
were — well,  never  mind.  What  are  you  doing  down 
here?" 

"I  fancied  I  heard  some  one,  miss,"  the  man  replied. 
"Prowlers,  or  cracksmen,  perhaps;  and  thought  I'd 
better  just  take  a  look  round." 

"H'm!"  said  I,  unconvinced.  "So  you  heard  them, 
too,  eh?" 

A  curious  look  passed  over  his  face.  I  could  have 
vowed  the  emotion  was  fright — that  he  had  not  the 
remotest  idea  I  would  have  said  such  a  thing. 

"Did  you  hear  anything,  miss?"  he  asked. 

"I  certainly  did." 

"Perhaps  it  was  myself  you  heard  then,  miss!" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  185 

"I  don't  know!"  I  replied,  looking  at  him  sharply. 
"Perhaps  it  was.  At  any  rate  I  know  positively 
that  I  saw  two  men  stealing  in  the  direction  of  these 
windows  not  over  twenty  minutes  ago.  But  there  is 
only  one  man  here  now,  it  seems." 

"You  saw  two  men!"  he  snapped,  his  voice  keen 
with  concern.  Then  he  dropped  it  to  his  usual  modu- 
lation. "Are  you  quite  sure  there  was  some  one  in 
the  garden?" 

"As  sure  as  that  I  am  standing  here!"  I  retorted. 
"I  saw  them  perfectly — at  least  plainly  enough  to  be 
sure  they  were  men ;  and  up  to  no  good,  I  am  equally 
certain  of  that !"  Surely  there  was  nothing  mysterious 
about  this  man — he  was  all  too  plainly  just  a  stupid 
servant.  I  could  have  shaken  him  from  sheer  irrita- 
tion, and  began  bitterly  to  regret  having  left  that  note 
in  his  chamber. 

"Well?"  I  said  impatiently.  "Aren't  you  going  to 
do  something  about  it?" 

"Ah — er — yes,  certainly,  miss,"  said  he,  "I'll  have 
a  look  round  of  course.  Did  you  say  they  came  this 
way?" 

"Headed  for  these  very  windows !"  I  said  firmly. 

He  crossed  to  the  long  French  casements  and  tried 
the  fastenings,  which  were  long  bars  that  crossed  them 
at  two  levels,  making  entrance  impossible  without 
breaking  the  leaded  glass.  They  were  undisturbed. 
The  great  rose  window  was,  of  course,  impenetrable, 
both  by  construction  and  because  of  its  height  from 
the  ground. 

"It  is  all  quite  secure,  miss,"  said  he.  "And  the 
beggars  will  be  frightened  off  by  now,  I  think,  for 
they  will  have  seen  the  light." 

"Look  here,  Wilkes,  my  man!"  I  said  sharply.    "If 


186  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

you  were  down  here  on  a  burglar  hunt,  why  were  you 
looking  for  them  in  the  frame  of  the  Madonna  of 
the  Lamp?" 

He  must  have  been  prepared  for  that,  for  he  replied 
composedly  enough,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"I  inadvertently  stopped  to  have  a  look  at  it,  miss," 
said  he.  "I  have  a  liking  for  fine  pictures,  miss." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that's  all  right  enough,"  I  said, 
still  somehow  very  much  troubled  in  my  mind,  I 
scarcely  knew  why.  "A  love  of  art  is  probably  one 
of  the  requisites  in  newfangled  help,  but  dear  knows 
Galadia  never  showed  any!  Well,  be  that  as  it  may, 
we'd  better  make  the  round  of  the  house  and  be  sure 
that  everything  is  safe!" 

"Very  well,  miss!"  said  he.  "But  need  you  come, 
miss?  I'll  just  find  the  watchman — he's  usually  in 
the  back  hall." 

"Well,  I'll  go  that  far  with  you,"  I  compromised. 
"I  want  to  make  sure  that  he  thinks  everything  is  all 
right  before  I  go  to  bed." 

"Very  well,  miss,"  said  Wilkes  again.  But  I  could 
not  help  feeling  he  was  uncommonly  anxious  to  get 
rid  of  me. 

Switching  the  lights  on  ahead  of  us  as  we  went, 
and  revealing  the  cheerful  normal  aspect  of  the  house 
as  it  really  was,  composed  my  nerves  to  a  considerable 
extent;  and  finding  the  watchman  at  his  post  in  the 
back  hall  was  also  reassuring.  One  thing  struck  me  as 
curious,  however.  The  man,  a  Latin  of  some  sort,  was 
not  dozing  in  the  expected  manner  of  night  watchmen, 
curled  upon  a  comfortable  jchair  or  nodding  over 
an  extinct  pipe.  He  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  knocking  one  boot  against  the  other,  and 
though  the  door,  leading  presumably  to  the  kitchen 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  187 

garden,  was  shut  I  at  once  got  a  strong  impression  of 
his  having  been  out  of  doors  a  moment  before.  There 
was  that  waft  of  fresh  air  that  comes  in  with  a  per- 
son from  the  coolness  of  the  night  clinging  to  his 
clothing,  and  the  room  itself  was  fresh  instead  of 
close  as  might  have  been  anticipated.  This  in  itself 
was,  of  course,  in  no  way  extraordinary,  and  might 
indeed  have  passed  unnoticed  had  it  not  been  for  what 
he  said. 

"Everything  all  right,  Pedro?"  asked  Wilkes,  who 
had  entered  ahead  -of  me. 

"Yas — was'  ell  matt'?"  replied  the  fellow,  evidently 
surprised  by  having  visitors  at  such  an  hour.  "You 
tink  you  hear  sometin'?" 

"Yes — Miss  Talbot  saw  two  men  in  the  garden — 
and  I  also  thought  I  heard  something  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary— someone  breaking  in — like  at  a  lower  window." 

"Xo-Hno!"  said  Pedro.  "Everytin'  all  ri'.  Me 
just  maka  da  round." 

"Then  you  must  have  seen  those  men,"  I  said 
quietly.  He  gave  me  a  stare  and  laughed,  white  teeth 
gleaming. 

"No,  no!"  he  said  again.  "No  two — me — you  see 
one  men — das  me — you  see  me,  signora!" 

His  confidence  was  perfect,  and  argument  failed 
to  move  him.  Finally  I  gave  it  up  and  went  to  bed, 
thinking  it  unnecessary  to  rouse  the  other  members 
of  the  household,  for  after  all  were  not  two  of  the 
menservants  awake  and  in  charge?  And  what  could 
I  prove?  Nothing  except  that  I  was  a  nervous,  imag- 
inative old  woman.  It  was  not  until  I  had  actually  got 
into  bed  that  I  recalled  one  fact  which  was  sufficient 
in  itself  to  justify  the  most  alarming  conclusions. 

Wilkes'  door  had  been  locked  on  the  inside,  and  yet 


188  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

I  had  found  him  inside  the  house,  while  his  window 
had  been  opened  wide.  The  thought  caused  me  to  sit 
bolt  upright  in  bed.  And  once  this  wide  awake  again, 
I  realized  further  that  the  obvious  conclusion  that 
Wilkes  had  left  by  way  of  his  open  window  was 
absurd.  How  could  he  possibly  have  left  the  third 
story  of  the  house  in  such  a  fashion?  I  was  positive 
that  no  rope  ladder  or  such  contraption  had  been  at- 
tached to  the  sill.  If  there  had  been  it  would  scarcely 
have  escaped  my  notice.  And  even  if  he  had  got  down 
in  some  way  how  could  he  have  got  back  ? 

Yet  there  had  been  two  men  in  the  garden.  I  had 
positively  seen  them  with  my  own  eyes,  and  no  Italian 
watchman  could  persuade  me  in  broken  English  to 
the  contrary.  Also  there  had  been  two  men  down- 
stairs and  awake  in  the  house — Wilkes  and  Pedro. 
Still  further,  Pedro  was  an  Italian  and  had  just  been 
out  of  doors.  Were  the  two  whom  I  had  seen  in  the 
garden  these  two?  If  so,  what  had  been  their  object 
in  meeting  outside,  when  both  had  the  run  of  the 
house  and  were  already  in  it? 

On  the  other  hand,  Pedro  had  been  obviously  sur- 
prised at  seeing  us.  Or  had  it  been  merely  my  presence 
which  had  occasioned  the  surprise  ? 

By  this  time  my  head  was  simply  stupid  from  think- 
ing, and  when  I  at  length  composed  myself  to  sleep  1 
had  formed  but  one  line  of  action — to  do  nothing 
and  say  nothing  until  somebody  else  did.  I  would  hold 
my  tongue  in  the  morning1  and!  see  what  sort  of 
report  of  the  night's  activities  the  two  men  made  be- 
fore I  said  a  word.  And  upon  this  resolve  I  at  length 
fell  asleep. 

My  dear  father  used  to  say  that  often  the  best  way 
to  prove  the  guilt  of  a  suspected  party  is  to  give  him 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  189 

the  opportunity  of  denying  something  of  which  you 
have  not  yet  accused  him.  And  with  this  axiom  in 
mind  next  morning  when  I  descended  to  breakfast,  I 
held  high  hopes  of  having  a  practical  demonstration  of 
its  truth.  Buoyed  up  more  by  my  lively  interest  in 
the  situation  than  by  the  brief  slumber  in  which  I  had 
indulged,  I  dressed  in  a  printed  gingham  as  a  refresh- 
ing, light  and  springlike  costume  calculated  to  improve 
my  appearance,  which  showed  some  ravages  from  the 
night  before,  and  with  mind  and  marcel  all  composed 
and  in  good  order,  I  presented  as  calm  and  cheerful 
an  appearance  to  the  company  which  slowly  gathered 
in  the  charming  breakfast  room  as  if  nothing  at  all 
out  of  the  usual  had  occurred  during  the  night. 

Peaches  was  at  the  table,  looking  lovelier  than  ever 
in  sports  clothes — a  form  of  unsexed  semi  female  attire 
most  distasteful  to  me  ordinarily,  and  as  I  took  my 
seat  beside  her  she  managed  a  brief  whisper. 

"When  are  you  going  to?"  she  breathed  cryptically. 

"I  already  have!"  I  whispered  back,  and  then  could 
say  no  more  because  Mr.  Pegg  emerged  from  the 
produce  sheet  of  the  newspaper  behind  which  he  had 
been  growling,  and  attacked  the  orange  upon  the  plate 
before  him. 

"Florida !  Bah !"  he  commented,  scattering  the  seeds 
wildly.  "Mornin',  Miss  Free.  Can't  raise  anything 
down  there  but  the  kind  of  stuff  we  refuse  to  market ! 
Ugh!  Surprised  at  Markheim's  Chinaboy.  Wd'l, 
Miss  Free,  you  look  like  you'd  just  eaten  the  canary. 
What's  up?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Pegg!"  I  protested.    "How  you  talk!" 

And  then  mercifully,  before,  he  had  any  oppor- 
tunity of  enlarging  further  upon  the  subject,  Sebastian 
Markheim  came  into  the  room,  his  face  red  and  moist 


190  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

with  excitement.  He  seemed  fairly  about  to  burst 
out  of  his  light  gray  tweed  clothing,  and  his  walk, 
usually  a  waddle,  now  assumed  the  proportion  of  a  trot. 

"Good  morning,  good  morning!"  he  said,  taking  his 
seat.  "Dear  me,  what  on  earth  do  you  suppose?  At- 
tempted robbery  here  last  night,  'pon  my  word!  But 
the  beggars  don't  seem  to  have  got  away  with  any- 
thing except ?' 

Here  he  paused,  unaccountable. 

"Except  what?"  I  asked  sharply. 

"Most  curious  thing!"  he  gasped.  "Very  extraor- 
dinary, very  extraordinary!  A  Damascus  sword!" 

"Holy  mackerel!"  said  Mr.  Pegg  impatiently. 
"Damn  it!  Orange  juice  in  my  eye — stings  like  the 
devil.  California  orange  juice  never  stings  you  like 
that!  What  did  you  say,  Mark?" 

"I  said  that  the  only  thing  the  burglars  took  was 
one  of  the  swords  from  the  suits  of  armor!"  yelled 
the  banker.  "What  did  they  want  it  for,  what  did 
they  want  it  for,  that's  what  I'd  like  to  know,  eh?" 

"Who  told  you  such  a  nonsensical  thing?"  I  asked. 

"My  man  Wilkes,"  replied  Mr.  Markheim.  "It 
seems  the  watchman,  Pedro,  has  disappeared  as  well, 
but  it's  hardly  likely  the  robbers  took  him." 

"More  likely  he  was  one  of  them !"  said  I.  "And  as 
for  the  missing  sword — it's  too  bad  your  servants 
don't  dust  more  carefully.  Sebastian  Markheim,  that's 
all  I've  got  to  say  about  that !" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Free?"  Alicia  put  in.  "Do  you 
know  anything  about  the  burglars?" 

"Only  that  I  heard  'em  and  came  downstairs,"  I 
said.  "What  else  did  your  man  Wilkes  tell  you?" 

"Why,  it  seems  he  heard  a  noise,"  replied  Mark- 
heim, "and  came  out  of  his  room  to  listen.  Then 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  191 

the  sounds  ceased,  but  he  thought  best  to  make  the 
rounds.  He  had  got  as  far  as  the  library  when  he 
encountered  you,  Miss  Talbot.  Then  he  saw  the 
watchman  and  you  left  him  and  went  back  upstairs — 
right,  eh?" 

"Yes,  that's  right,"  I  admitted. 

"The  watchman  denied  having  heard  or  seen  any- 
thing out  of  the  way,"  Sebastian  went  on,  "and  they 
went  over  the  whole  place  together,  to  make  sure 
everything  was  all  right.  But  the  funny  part  of  it 
is  that  Pedro — that's  the  watchman  chaj>— Pedro  can't 
be  found." 

"Well,  he's  done  nothing  to  send  a  posse  after  him 
for,  far  as  I  can  see,"  observed  Mr.  Pegg.  "And  if 
you  do  send  one  he's  likely  to  slew  at  it  with  that 
sword — better  lay  off  him." 

"I  took  that  sword  myself,"  I  announced  with  dig- 
nity. "It  is  behind  the  portiere  to  the  library,  where 
I  left  it.  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  so  untidy,  but  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment  I  confess  I  neglected  to 
put  it  back  in  place." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  this,  though  I  must 
say  I  failed  to  see  any  humor  in  a  maiden  lady  having 
armed  herself  before  facing  a  supposed  burglar. 

"You  didn't  take  the  watchman,  too,  did  you?" 
asked  Mr.  Pegg. 

"Of  course  not!"  said  I.  "But  I  think  he  was  a 
very  evil,  suspicious-looking  character,  with  a  decided 
accent  and  quite  unwashed.  I  would  never  have  en- 
gaged him  as  a  watchman  myself.  He  seemed  to  me 
obviously  a  bandit." 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all !"  exclaimed  Sebastian.  "Came 
to  me  with  the  very  highest  credentials — recommended 
strongly  by  the  Italian  consul  himself." 


192  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"When  did  he  come  to  you,  Mark?"  asked  Peaches. 

"Let's  see,"  said  he.    "About  three  weeks  ago." 

"Then  you  don't  know  if  he  is  a  good  burglar  hound 
or  not,"  said  she.  "But  he  may  turn  up,  you  know. 
Don't  judge  him  too  soon." 

"I  shan't,"  replied  Markheim.  "Devil  his  due,  inno- 
cent until  guilty  and  all  that.  But  it's  odd  they  can't 
find  him.  Generally  sleeps  in  the  gardener's  cottage. 
Room's  down  there." 

The  subject  being  then  to  all  appearances  exhausted 
it  was  dropped,  and  in  as  short  a  time  as  would  de- 
cently avoid  suspicion  Peaches  finished  her  meal  and 
strolled  out  of  the  room  on  to  the  terrace.  Ostenta- 
tiously avoiding  all  appearance  of  haste  I  joined  her 
a  few  minutes  later  and  slipping  my  arm  about  her 
waist  strolled  out  of  earshot.  The  morning  was  ex- 
ceedingly mild  and  fair,  and  choosing  a  secluded  nook 
where  the  sun  beat  down  warmly  we  seated  ourselves 
upon  a  stone  bench. 

"Free!"  Peaches  demanded.  "What  happened? 
Shoot  me  the  whole  story,  and  be  quick  or  they'll 
be  getting  too  damn  sociable  before  you're  through." 
She  nodded  back  toward  the  breakfast  room. 

Well,  I  told  her  as  briefly  as  was  consistent  with 
accuracy.  And  when  I  had  finished  she  simply  sat  and 
stared  at  me  for  a  moment,  quite  wordless,  though 
her  mouth  was  ope'n. 

"Freedom  Talbot!"  she  gasped  at  length.  "I  am 
horrified.  The  only  safe  place  for  you  is  the  ranch. 
The  moment  I  take  you  out  into  the  civilized  world 
it  becomes  necessary  for  me  to  sit  up  nights  chaperon- 
ing you." 

"Never  mind  chaperoning  me!"  I  retorted.     "My 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  193 

character  is  perfectly  sound,  no  matter  how  my  actions 
may  at  times  appear.  The  main  problem  before  us  is 
to  extricate  you  from  the  position  you  have  got  your- 
self into  through  making  an  appointment  to  meet  this 
man  who  I  am  now  absolutely  convinced  is  simply  a 
common  servant." 

"Who  you  have  got  me  dated  up  to  meet,"  cor- 
rected Peaches.  "And  believe  me,  kid,  I'm  going  to 
meet  him.  There's  more  to  this  than  you  think,  my 
worthy  nurse !" 

"But,  Peaches!"  I  wailed.  "(When  did  you  tell  him 
to  meet  you,  and  where?  Oh,  why  did  I  ever  sug- 
gest such  a  thing?" 

"How  did  you  ever  do  such  a  stunt  as  walk  that 
gutter?  That's  what  gets  me,  old  thing!"  she  retorted. 
"Free,  you — you  little  gutter  snipe!  And  as  for  my 
date,  it's  for  one  o'clock  at  the  fountain." 

"One  o'clock!"  I  said.  "Why,  everybody  will  see 
you." 

"Then  they'll  have  some  eyes !"  said  she.  "I  mean 
one  o'clock  to-night.  And  you  are  to  come  along  with 
me,  dear  confidential  companion,  and  listen  in  on  the 
whole  thing." 

"Well,  if  you  are  determined  to  do  it,  of  course,  it 
is  my  duty  to  accompany  you,"  I  replied.  "But  I  am 
beginning  to  be  more  and  more  convinced  that  you 
have  simply  let  yourself  in  for  a  situation  which  is 
going  to  have  dreadfully  embarrassing  consequences. 
If  I  had  talked  with  that  man  before  I  delivered  your 
note  I  would  never,  never  have  consented.  You  are 
merely  making  a  fool  of  yourself." 

"Suppose  I  am  mistaken?"  said  she  with  a  sudden 
fierceness,  the  irises  of  her  golden  eyes  contracting 
as  if  she  were  a  female  tiger  cat.  "Suppose  I  am? 


194.  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Isn't  it  worth  risking?  Heavens,  how  I  have  suffered 
these  six  years!  You  don't  know!  You  can't  know! 
And  now  perhaps — a  miracle !  I  feel,  I  know  without 
proof,  that  this  man  is  my  man.  I  could  no  more  stay 
away  than  I  could  stop  breathing.  And  if  you  refuse 
to  go  with  me  I  swear  I  will  go  alone — yes,  if  I  go 
by  the  same  route  you  took  last  night !" 

"Alicia!"  I  exclaimed,  shocked  at  this  strange  and 
unladylike  upheaval.  "Of  course  I  will  go  with  you 
and  make  it  as  little  improper  as  the  circumstances 
permit.  If  nothing  develops — er — nothing  need  be 
said,  if  you  understand  what  I  mean." 

"I  get  you !"  said  Peaches  with  sudden  weariness. 

And  a  few  moments  later  the  gentlemen  joined  us, 
preferring  to  take  their  after-breakfast  tobacco  in 
the  open  air;  a  habit  which  I  trusted  Peaches  would 
encourage  when  she  became  mistress  of  the  mansion, 
as  most  beneficial  for  her  rugs  and  hangings. 

At  any  rate  while  they  chatted  and  smoked,  my 
charge  maintaining  a  most  casual,  undisturbed  ex- 
terior, I  bent  my  energies  upon  the  problem  of  just 
how  Wilkes  had  reached  the  ground  the  night  before, 
scanning  the  service  wing  of  the  house  with  critical 
eye,  though  ostensibly  engaged  upon  my  crochet  work, 
for  I  was  completing  a  handsome  set  of  table  mats 
which  I  intended  as  a  wedding  gift  to  Peaches.  But 
being  skilled  in  the  art  of  crochet  I  could  do  it  au- 
tomatically, a  gift  which  now  served  me  well.  But 
study  the  wall  as  I  might  I  could  not  discover  how  he 
had  come  down  it,  much  less  returned  by  the  same 
route.  He  simply  must  have  gone  in  at  another  win- 
dow. But  why?  It  was  a  puzzle. 

Somehow — I  scarcely  know  with  what  series  of 
small  incidents — the  day  was  passed.  To  me,  and 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  195 

no  doubt  to  my  charge,  it  was  but  a  channel  to  the 
goal  of  our  midnight  tryst.  As  for  me  I  kept,  as  it 
were,  mentally  upon  tiptoe,  hourly  expecting  that  some 
word  would  come  from  Wilkes;  that  he  would  show 
some  sign  signifying  that  he  knew  of  the  impend- 
ing meeting,  or  perhaps  send  a  note,  his  opportunity 
for  answering  Alicia's  missive  being  so  infinitely 
greater  than  had  been  ours  in  conveying  it  to  him. 
Indeed  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  choose  a  moment  when 
she  would  be  comparatively  unobserved,  and  present 
his  own  note  upon  a  silver  salver.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  I  fully  expected  some  such  incident,  but  the  day 
passed  without  any  occurring. 

Of  course  there  was  not  much  time  offered  for 
such  a  trick,  inasmuch  as  we  were  out  in  the  motor 
all  morning,  lunched  at  a  hospitable  neighbor's  who 
entertained  in  Peaches'  honor,  while  during  the  after- 
noon Peaches  and  Sebastian  played  golf  together,  re- 
maining on  the  course  until  almost  dinner  time. 

During  the  dressing  hour  that  preceded  that  func- 
tion, which  was  to  be  held  at  the  house  next  door  but 
was  to  terminate  early  by  agreement  because  of  Mr. 
Markheim  having  a  most  important  appointment  in 
the  city  at  nine  o'clock  the  following  morning,  I  ran 
into  Peaches'  room  to  inquire  if  any  developments 
had  occurred  unknown  to  me.  She  replied  in  the 
negative. 

"Haven't  even  seen  him  all  day,"  she  replied.  "Have 
you?" 

"No,"  said  I.  "And  I  wish  I  never  might  again! 
I  am  terribly  upset  about  the  whole  thing !" 

"You  don't  look  upset!"  said  Peaches,  unexpectedly 
coming  over  and  kissing  me  through  the  golden  cloud 


196  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

of  her  loosened  hair.  "You  look  sweet  in  that  gown. 
I'm  glad  you  put  it  on  again." 

"Our  hosts  were  not  here  last  night,  so  I  thought 
it  would  be  all  right !"  I  declared,  smoothing  it  down. 
"And  I  thought  it  was  good  and  dark  to  wear  later," 
I  added  significantly. 

"I've  decided  we  will  leave  not  later  than  eleven 
o'clock,"  Peaches  announced,  choosing  a  black  dinner 
gown,  doubtless  with  the  same  end  in  view  as  that  with 
which  my  own  costume  had  been  selected.  "I'll  have 
a  headache — and  that  will  give  'em  two  hours  to  go  to 
bed  and  settle  down  to  sleep  before  the  fatal  hour. 
Here,  hook  me  up,  will  you?" 

"I  understand  that  watchman  has  never  shown  up," 
I  commented  as  I  obliged  her.  "I  hope  to  goodness 
he  won't  be  round  to-night !" 

"It's  a  merciful  providence  that  he  chose  this  for 
a  night  off!"  was  her  reply. 

And  then  presently  we  descended  to  the  world  and  a 
hollow  pretense  of  careless  gayety,  including  a  game 
of  bridge,  at  which  I  was  rapidly  becoming  an  adept 
under  Mr.  Pegg's  kind  tutelage,  and  must  confess  to  a 
hearty  enjoyment  of.  And  if  I  did  win  a  few  dollars 
at  it  occasionally,  I  always  turned  the  money  right 
over  to  the  home  mission,  so  nobody  could  have  ac- 
cused me  of  gambling  in  any  moral  sense,  the  more  so 
as  Mr.  Pegg  always  most  gallantly  insisted  upon  pay- 
ing my  losses.  But  I  digress. 

Promptly  at  eleven  Peaches'  headache  developed  ac- 
cording to  schedule,  and  presently  we  four  of  the 
villa  found  ourselves  walking  the  short  distance  which 
lay  between  the  two  houses,  the  night  being  uncom- 
monly fine  and  the  moon  on  the  river  a  sight  to  see. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful?"  I  breathed  as  I  clung  to  Mr. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 197 

Pegg's  arm,  the  lovers,  if  so  I  may  call  them,  walking 
ahead,  much  to  Sebastian's  ill-concealed  disgust. 

"Pretty  nifty,"  replied  Mr.  Pegg  reluctantly.  "But 
you  ought  to  see  the  moon  in  Calif — of  course,  that- 
is,  you  must  admit  it's  not  a  patch  on  California." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  so  certain!"  I  replied.  "The  moon 
is  the  moon,  you  know,  and  I  am  addicted  to  it.  It — 
er — renews  my  youth,  as  it  were." 

"You  said  it !"  replied  the  dear  man. 

But  unfortunately  we  reached  our  own  door  at  this 
juncture,  where  Peaches  and  Mr.  Markheim  were  wait- 
ing for  us,  and  there  was  nothing  left,  under  Peaches' 
firm  direction  of  matters,  but  to  say  good  night  and 
separate  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

For  what  seemed  hours  Peaches  and  I  waited  in 
my  room  listening  to  the  low  rumble  of  the  two  men 
as  they  sat  upon  the  terrace  and  indulged  in  a  final 
smoke;  and  then,  presumably,  in  another  final  smoke 
and  another. 

"Will  they  never  go  to  bed?"  Peaches  asked  more 
than  once,  keeping  her  voice  down  to  a  whisper,  how- 
ever, as  we  had  extinguished  the  lights  and  opened 
the  windows  in  both  rooms  in  order  to  give  the  appear- 
ance of  having  retired.  Across  the  court  the  servants' 
wing  showed  an  occasional  lighted  window,  including 
that  of  Wilkes,  the  valet.  Of  course  he  would  not  be 
free  until  Markheim  dismissed  him  for  the  night.  It 
seemed  as  if  our  vigil  would  never  end.  But  at  length 
we  heard  a  crisp  voice  below  articulate  in  the  fact 
that  the  owner  was  going  to  bed,  and  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  later  the  light  in  the  valet's  room  snapped 
out.  Our  time  had  come. 

Never  in  all  my  born  days  had  I  imagined  that  a 
well-built  staircase  could  make  so  much  noise  when 


198  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

trod  upon  by  two  of  the  gentler  sex  as  did  that  stair 
in  the  Markheim  mansion  as  Peaches  and  I  made 
our  stealthy — or  at  least  comparatively  stealthy— de- 
scent of  it.  Nor  could  I  have  believed  it  possible 
that  the  floor  of  that  majestic  hall  was  so  ill  laid  as  to 
squeak;  but  it  did.  As  for  the  French  windows  of 
the  library,  which  we  selected  as  our  means  of  exit, 
they  appeared,  to  our  hypersensitive  consciousness, 
to  be  one  chorus  of  rattles  and  groans.  Unbarring  them 
was  simple  enough  even  in  the  dark,  for  we  did  not 
dare  to  use  any  lights  save  that  from  Peaches's  pocket 
flash,  and  once  outside  we  took  good  care  to  close 
them  after  us,  first  making  sure  that  the  latch  was 
open.  t 

The  garden  was  glorious  in  the  moonlight,  even 
though  the  barrenness  of  early  spring  was  still  upon 
it.  A  wealth  of  hyacinths  sent  up  a  heavy  sweetness 
in  the  still  night  air,  and  on  the  lawn  toward  the 
river  crocuses  were  whiter  than  the  moonlight  itself. 
Keeping  close  to  the  wall  Peaches  led  the  way  to  the 
fountain — a  lovely  thing,  brought,  like  most  of  Se- 
bastian's treasures,  from  overseas,  and  nestling  against 
the  wall  as  perfectly  set  as  in  the  place  for  which  it 
had  originally  been  intended.  A  group  of  cedars,  tall 
and  dark,  stood  in  a  martial  row  on  either  side  of  it, 
casting  a  black  shadow  which  afforded  us  perfect  shel- 
ter from  any  prying  eyes,  and  the  tinkle  of  the  water 
from  the  pipes  of  the  ancient  little  Pan  against  the 
ivy-covered  wall  fell  into  the  basin  below  with  a  sound 
that  was  music.  A  perfect  night,  a  perfect  spot,  a 
perfect  ladylove,  Alicia — her  face  a  white  blur  against 
the  darkness — detached,  ethereal,  utterly  lovely.  And 
what  of  the  man?  Was  he  going  to  prove  the  ghost  of 
a  dead  romance,  or  common  clay?  I  fairly  ached  to 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 199 

know,  being  for  once  so  absorbed  in  her  love  that  I 
forgot  to  feel  old  and  out  of  place. 

But  advancing  years  will  manifest  themselves,  and 
often  in  the  most  annoying  manner  and  at  times  least 
convenient.  And  as  time  went  by  and  no  lover  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene  I  grew  very,  very  tired. 

"What  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter?"  I  asked  at 
length. 

"Something  has  detained  him,"  Peaches  replied. 
"Have  patience.  He  can't  be  long  now!" 

Another  period  of  silence  went  by,  punctuated  only 
by  the  hoot  of  a  night  boat  going  up  the  river  like  some 
great  golden  water  beetle,  and  the  occasional  rustle  of 
the  budding  branches  overhead  as  a  cool  breeze  sprang 
up  and  sent  little  clouds  flecking  across  the  wide  face 
of  the  moon.  Then  came  the  sound  of  a  step  upon 
the  gravel. 

"There  he  is!"  whispered  Alicia,  seizing  me  by  the 
arm.  Her  hand  was  hot  and  trembling. 

But  the  sound  was  not  repeated,  and  no  one  ap- 
proached, though  we  waited  with  straining  ears. 

"It's  past  the  time  now,"  said  Peaches  at  length. 

"Oh,  Peaches — let  us  return!"  I  besought  her.  "I 
don't  believe  he's  coming.  Besides,  I'm  getting  so 
tired!" 

"Nonsense!  Of  course  he'll  come!"  she  said.  But 
now  there  was  a  note  of  defiant  doubt  in  her  voice. 
"Wait — you  must  wait.  There's  a  bench  somewhere." 

Fumbling  about  presently  she  found  it,  and  together 
we  sat  down  and  again  waited  in  a  silence  that  seemed 
as  if  it  would  never  end.  The  wind  was  growing 
more  brisk  and  the  clouds  were  thickening,  hurrying 
across  the  irregular  roof  of  the  house  like  frightened 


200  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

sheep  over  a  wigwag  fence,  and  herding  together  in  a 
rapidly  growing  mass  beyond.  There  was  a  storm 
brewing;  I  could  feel  it  in  my  bones.  At  length,  when 
more  than  an  hour  had  passed  I  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

"Do  you  intend  to  wait  all  night  for  that — that 
servant?"  I  at  length  demanded  in  a  fierce  undertone. 

"I'm  going  to  wait  a  hundred  years!"  replied  she. 
"If  he  got  that  letter  he  will  come,  servant  or  no 
servant." 

"Peaches,  you're  a  silly  goose,  and  you  have  no 
consideration  for  me,"  I  said.  "My  feelings  are 
deeply  wounded,  and  I'm  quite  worn  out,  what  with 
two  such  nights  in  succession!"  And  with  that  I  felt 
in  my  pocket  for  my  handkerchief  preparatory  to  be- 
ginning to  cry.  As  I  did  so  my  fingers  seized  upon 
quite  another  object,  which  I  drew  forth  with  a  sicken- 
ing sense  of  what  I  had  done — or  rather  of  what  I  had 
most  miserably  failed  to  do,  for  the  object  which 
I  drew  forth  was  nothing  less  than  the  letter  which 
Peaches  had  intrusted  to  me  the  evening  before! 

"Peaches!"  I  gasped  painfully,  confession  coming 
hard.  "Peaches,  I  climbed  out  of  my  window  and 
risked  my  neck  last  night " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  she  said  soothingly.  "I  ap- 
preciate it." 

"But  you  don't!"  I  said.  "I  crossed  those  terrible 
ledges  and  endangered  my  reputation,  to  leave  a  set  of 
directions  for  making  a  slip-on  sweater  in  his  room!" 

"You  what?"  said  Peaches,  now  thoroughly  alive. 

"Galadia  sent  them !"  I  endeavored  to  explain. 
"And  it  was  my  mistake.  Here  was  your  letter  all 
the  time!" 

For  a  long  period  of  silence  I  awaited  the  storm 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  201 

of  her  wrath.  But  it  didn't  come.  Instead  she  drew 
a  long  sobbing  breath  of  relief. 

"Thank  heaven  he  didn't  turn  me  down!"  was  all 
she  said. 

And  then  slowly  we  made  our  way  back  to  the 
house,  our  footless  errand  ended.  Peaches  stepped 
inside  and  feeling  for  the  electric  button  flooded  the 
room  with  light. 

"No  need  for  secrecy  now,"  she  remarked,  "so  we 
don't  have  to  break  our  necks  over  the  furniture  as 
we " 

Her  voice  broke  off  into  a  shrill  little  scream,  and 
raising  her  hand  she  pointed  to  the  mantelpiece.  The 
frame  was  there,  but  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp  was 
gone! 


XIII 

AT  first  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes — but  there 
was  the  space  where  once  the  beautiful  picture  had 
hung,  the  gape  showing  the  paneling  behind  all  too 
plainly.  Aghast  I  turned  to  Peaches,  who  continued 
to  stare. 

"What  has  happened  to  it?"  I  asked  in  an  awed 
tone.  "Has  it  been  stolen?" 

"You  bet  your  life  it  has!"  she  replied,  recovering 
herself.  "People  don't  lock  oil  paintings  up  for  the 
night  with  the  silver  spoons,  you  know.  Gosh !  What 
a  shame!  Such  a  pretty  picture,  too,  and  worth  a 
young  fortune.  Won't  Mark  be  wild  though !  Do  you 
suppose  it  was  gone  when  we  came  through  in  the 
dark?" 

"Dear  me,  how  should  I  know?"  I  demanded. 
"Though,  of  course,  they  will  ask  us  that." 

"Yes — sort  of  awkward,  our  not  having  made  any 
light  on  the  way  out,"  she  replied.  "I  suppose  we 
ought  to  wake  Sebastian  up  right  away  though,  don't 
you?" 

"Certainly!"  I  responded.  "Those  men  I  saw  last 
night  the  missing  watchman — it's  all  too  suspicious  to 
be  allowed  to  wait  another  moment." 

"I'll  say  it  is!"  replied  Peaches  vigorously.  "You 
wait  here  while  I  run  up  and  pound  on  the  door!" 

"Oh,  Peaches !  Send  a  servant !"  I  implored.  "The 
burglars  might  be  out  there  in  the  hall !" 

But  before  the  words  were  fairly  out  of  my  mouth 

202 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  203 

she  was  gone,  lighting  the  house  as  she  went,  and  in 
an  incredily  short  time  I  could  hear  her  pounding  and 
shouting  in  the  upper  hall  with  a  noise  that  was  fit  to 
wake  the  dead.  Shivering  with  fatigue,  but  enlivened 
by  the  amazing  turn  which  events  had  taken  I  occupied 
myself  with  switching  on  all  the  lights  and  making 
sure  that  the  picture  had  not  simply  been  lifted  down 
for  some  reason  and  left  in  the  room.  But  this  was 
not  the  case — indeed  I  acted  merely  automatically  and 
not  because  I  really  expected  to  find  it.  In  a  very  few 
moments  Peaches  was  back,  a  trifle  flushed  and  breath- 
less. 

"They  will  be  right  down!"  she  announced.  "I 
stirred  up  pa  as  well.  Now,  Free,  old  thing,  what's 
our  story  when  they  do  appear?  We've  got  to  stick 
to  the  same  lie,  you  know,  and  we've  got  to  say  some- 
thing plausible,  because  here  it  is  two-thirty  in  the 
morning  and  it's  quite  obvious  that  we  haven't  been 
to  bed,  though  we  went  up  long  before  they  did." 

"Well,"  I  responded  hurriedly,  for  already  the  two 
men  could  be  heard  on  the  stairway,  "though  I  de- 
plore the  use  of  untruth  I  fear  we  shall  have  to  resort 
to  it  in  this  case.  We  will  say — what  on  earth  shall 
we  say  ?" 

"I  had  a  headache  and  couldn't  sleep,"  suggested 
Peaches.  "So  we  came  down !" 

"Rotten!"  I  whispered  fiercely.  "In  these  clothes? 
Bah !  We  sat  up  late  talking  and  came  down  intending 
to  get  something  to  eat,  and  you  remembered  a  book 
you  wanted.  Here  it  is!  Sh!  They  are  here!" 

Hastily  I  seized  at  random  a  volume  from  one  of 
the  shelves  and  laid  it  beside  her  on  the  sofa,  and 
an  instant  later  Markheim  came  bouncing  into  the 
room,  a  purple  satin  dressing  gown  flapping  about  his 


204-  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

heels,  his  scant  hair  disordered.  Closely  following  was 
Mr.  Pegg,  a  lean  but  majestic  figure  with  nightshirt 
tucked  into  his  dress  trousers  and  a  raincoat  thrown 
jauntily  over  one  shoulder — presumably  the  first  gar- 
ments at  hand — his  magnificent  shock  of  gray  curls 
giving  him  somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  lion  roused 
from  slumber. 

'"What's  all  this,  what's  all  this?"  cried  Sebastian, 
running  up  to  the  mantelpiece.  Then  he  clasped  his 
hands  over  his  bald  spot  in  a  gesture  of  despair.  "Oh !" 
he  moaned.  "How  perfectly  terrible!  How  perfectly 
terrible!" 

"Great  Snakes,  ain't  that  too  bad!"  observed  Mr. 
Pegg.  "Lucky  thing  you  got  them  picture  post  cards 
of  it,  Mark!  Where  d'you  s'pose  the  sons  of  guns 
got  in  anyways  ?  And  how  comes  it  that  you  girls  are 
burglar-hunting  in  your  party  clothes  when  you  ought 
to  be  tearing  off  a  little  beauty  sleep?" 

"We  talked  so  late!"  explained  Peaches,  gazing  into 
her  father's  eyes  with  a  wonderful,  direct,  innocent 
look.  "And  we  got  so  hungry  that  we  came  down 
to  forage — and  on  the  way  I  dropped  in  for  this  book" 
— she  held  it  up  toward  him — "  and,  of  course,  we  no- 
ticed right  off  the  bat  that  the  Madonna  was  gone." 

"She  ran  right  up  and  got  you,"  I  added.  "And 
now  you  know  as  much  as  we  do." 

"Humph!"  said  Mr.  Pegg,  still  looking  at  the  book 
his  daughter  had  offered  him.  "Couldn't  sleep  without 
it,  eh?" 

"This  is  terrible,  this  is  terrible!"  exclaimed  our 
host,  paying  no  attention  to  anything  except  his  loss. 
"Ring  the  bell!  Summon  everybody!  Where  is 
Wilkes  ?  I  told  him  to  come  down  at  once." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  205 

"You  told  him?"  asked  Peaches  swiftly.  "Where 
was  he?" 

"In  his  room,  of  course!"  snapped  Markheim. 
"Spoke  to  him  on  the  house  telephone!  What  did 
you  suppose?  Oh,  my  precious  painting!  This  is 
outrageous — outrageous!  Did  they  take  anything 
else?" 

Peaches  and  I  exchanged  a  glance  of  relief.  Wilkes 
had  been  in  the  house.  Whatever  his  mysterious  mode 
of  egress,  the  step  we  had  heard  in  the  garden  was 
no  evidence  that  he  had  used  it  to-night. 

This  thought  passed  between  us  in  a  flash  as  she 
replied:  "Haven't  the  faintest  idea,  old  boy.  Let's 
have  a  look!" 

"I  want  to  make  sure!"  he  said.  "But  first  let's 
see  how  they  did  it." 

Climbing  upon  a  footstool  which  he  dragged  for- 
ward for  the  purpose,  Markheim  then  proceeded  to  an 
examination  of  the  picture  frame,  while  we  gathered 
about  curiously. 

"Can't  understand  it!"  he  puffed  after  a  moment 
of  silence.  He  shook  his  head  like  a  Japanese  doll. 

"Can't  understand  what?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  the  whole  canvas  has  been  removed-1— stretch- 
er and  all!"  he  cried.  "Extraordinary!  Extraordin- 
ary!" 

"Why?"  Peaches  wanted  to  know. 

"Shows  they  took  their  time!"  Markheim  explained. 
"Able  to  unmount  the  canvas — and  it  takes  skill  to  roll 
an  old  painting!  By  jove,  yes!  Usually  simply  cut 
it  out  of  the  frame,  like  the  Mona  Lisa,  you  know. 
Only  way,  really,  if  you  are  in  a  hurry.  Yes,  they 
took  their  time!" 


206  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Then  the  frame — I  mean  the  stretcher — ought  to  be 
somewhere!"  suggested  Mr.  Pegg  brightly. 

"Nonsense — utter  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Markheim, 
climbing  down.  "And  now  let's  give  a  look  round. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  else  may  be  gone!" 

He  preceded  us  into  the  corridor,  an  absurd  figure 
in  his  gorgeous  negligee,  and  I  could  not  help  but  note 
how  much  better  Mr.  Pegg  appeared  by  comparison. 
It  is  not  only  women  whose  appearance  is  governed 
by  clothes,  and,  as  my  dear  father  used  to  say,  clothes 
may  not  make  the  man  but,  thank  the  Lord,  they 
hide  him. 

Well,  at  any  rate  we  two  timid  females  followed  the 
stronger  members  of  the  exploring  party  out  into  the 
main  hall,  where  we  encountered  Wilkes.  He  was 
fully  dressed,  perfectly  composed,  and  the  very  pic- 
ture of  quiet  correctness. 

"You  wished  me,  sir?"  he  said. 

"Yes.  Why  the  devil  were  you  so  long?"  snapped 
Markheim,  wishing  to  vent  his  annoyance  on  someone. 

"Sorry,  sir,  I  was  dressing!"  replied  the  man. 

"Well,"  snarled  the  master,  "there's  been  a  bur- 
glary. Most  valuable  picture  in  the  house's  been 
taken.  Call  police  headquarters  at  Tarrytown  and 
tell  them  to  send  someone  out  at  once.  Then  get  every 
servant  in  the  house  down  into  the  front  hall  and  see 
that  no  one  leaves  the  premises!  Meanwhile,  we'll 
take  a  look  about." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  after  a  little  gasp  of 
surprise.  "Nobody  hurt,  I  trust,  sir?" 

"No,"  said  Markheim  briefly.  "I  expect  it's  the 
same  gang  you  thought  you  heard  last  night.  Any- 
thing heard  from  Pedro?" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  207 

"Nothing,  sir,"  said  Wilkes.  "I'll  telephone  at 
once." 

He  retreated  through  the  servants'  hall  entrance, 
where  I  assume  a  telephone  was  placed,  and  the  door 
swung  silently  to  behind  him.  I  stared  after  him  hard,, 
feeling  that  I  would  like  to  watch  him  through  the  thick 
oaken  paneling  if  only  I  might.  To  be  sure,  the  man's 
demeanor  had  been  perfect;  and  yet  somehow  I  was 
not  satisfied.  My  mind  kept  straining  at  something 
half  forgotten,  as  if  I  were  subconsciously  endeavor- 
ing to  hitch  him  up  in  my  memory.  To  all  appear- 
ances this  was  no  concern  of  his.  He  had  been  in  his 
room  when  Markheim  called  him  on  the  service  phone. 
He  had  been  just  about  long  enough  in  making  his 
appearance  to  tab  up  with  the  completeness  of  his 
toilet.  To  have  at  once  answered  the  ringing  of  his 
bell  he  must  have  been  in  his  room  before  Peaches  and 
I  returned  to  the  house,  and  our  position  in  the  garden, 
coupled  with  our  alertness  while  there,  seemed  to  war- 
rant the  supposition  that  we  must  have  observed  any 
unusual  activity  either  in  the  service  wing  or  in  the 
library,  through  which  we  had  passed  an  hour  and  a 
half  earlier. 

It  was  plain  that  sooner  or  later  questions  would  be 
put  to  us,  and  to  others,  which  would  give  rise  to  the 
problem  of  confession  or  of  withholding  of  the  facts 
concerning  our  exact  movements  between  the  time  of 
our  returning  and  of  the  announcement  of  our  dis- 
covery. 

For  example,  if  the  police  were  allowed  to  work  on 
the  supposition  that  the  theft  had  been  committed  be- 
tween twelve  and  two-fifteen,  some  clew  of  inestimable 
value  might  easily  be  discounted  by  them,  for  it  seemed 
more  than  likely  that  the  time  was  really  that  between 


208  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

our  entrance  into  the  garden  and  our  return  to  the 
house.  Moreover,  there  was  certainly  someone  mov- 
ing about  on  the  garden  path  while  we  were  concealed 
by  the  fountain.  Of  that  there  was  now  no  reasonable 
doubt.  Both  Peaches  and  I  had  distinctly  heard  a  foot- 
step which  we  thought  to  be  that  of  Wilkes,  while  we 
still  expected  him  to  join  us ;  we  had  even  commented 
on  it.  And  now  it  was  going  to  be  extremely  difficult 
to  convey  this  information  without  involving  ourselves 
in  a  vefy  delicate  but  entangling  mesh  of  complica- 
tions. As  I  was  turning  these  facts  over  in  my  mind 
and  wondering  what  course  a  Talbot  ought  to  pursue 
under  the  circumstances  Mr.  Markheim  was  taking 
charge  of  affairs  in  a  masterly  manner,  and  giving 
orders  with  the  assurance  of  a  Napoleon  in  negligee. 

"You  stay  here  with  Miss  Freedom,  Peaches,"  he 
commanded,  "while  your  father  and  I  make  the  rounds 
of  the  place.  Sit  right  there  on  the  big  sofa  and  tell 
the  servants  to  wait,  as  they  come  down.  Don't  let 
any  of  them  go  out  of  the  hall." 

"We  better  take  a  couple  of  shooting  irons  along," 
remarked  Mr.  Pegg,  producing  a  revolver  from  each 
pocket  of  his  raincoat  in  a  nonchalant  manner.  "Never 
can  tell  but  what  there  may  be  an  ambush  some  place." 

"All  right!"  agreed  Sebastian,  accepting  one.  "No 
harm,  no  harm  to  have  it.  Where's  that  man  Wilkes  ?" 

Again  as  though  in  answer,  Wilkes  appeared  from 
under  the  stairs. 

"The  police  will  come  at  once,  sir,"  he  reported. 
Then,  seeing  the  revolvers:  "Shall  I  go  along  with 
you?" 

"No,"  said  Markheim.  "Get  the  other  servants 
down,  and  count  noses,  damn  quick.  Then  tell  Jorkins 
to  make  a  double  shaker  of  cocktails  and  some  sand- 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  209 

wiches  and  bring  them  here.  We  will  be  back  as  soon 
as  we  can." 

The  three  men  then  departed  upon  their  several  er- 
rands, leaving  us  alone  for  the  moment. 

"What'll  we  do — 'fess  up?"  asked  Peaches.  "I  have 
a  feeling  that  there's  going  to  be  hell  to  pay." 

"Alicia !"  I  remarked.  "No  lady  uses  such  language, 
as  I  have  reminded  you  at  least  a  hundred  thousand 
times!  No,  I  don't  think  we  will  say  a  word  about 
our  futile  adventure — or,  to  be  accurate,  our  attempted 
adventure.  At  least  not  unless  something  brought  out 
by  the  police  seems  to  demand  that  we  do." 

"Have  you  been  taking  a  good  look  at  him?"  she 
then  wanted  to  know. 

"Who?    That  man  Wilkes?"  I  said. 

"No — my  ex-fiance,"  responded  Peaches  calmly. 

"Which  one  do  you  mean?"  I  demanded. 

"Mark,"  said  she. 

"Alicia  Pegg,  what  did  you  say?"  I  asked  severely. 

"I  said  did  you  take  a  good  look  at  Sebastian  in 
that  purple  dressing  gown?"  she  repeated  patiently. 

"How  could  I  help  doing  so?"  said  I  with  indigna- 
tion. 

"That's  just  it,"  she  remarked  in  a  tone  of  finality. 
"That  finishes  it!" 

"Finishes  what?" 

"Our  engagement,"  she  said  firmly.  "The  combina- 
tion of  temper  and  dressing  gown." 

"But  with  all  due  modesty  you  must  have  expected 
to  see  him  in  a  dressing  gown  after  you  were  mar- 
ried," I  protested  as  delicately  as  I  could. 

"And  he  not  only  looks  like  the  devil  in  it  but  stands 
there  and  tells  me  to  sit  quiet  until  he  comes  back. 


210  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

just  as  though  I  wasn't  a  better  shot  than  he  is !  Ugh 
— that  dressing  gown!" 

"Well,  what  did  you  expect?"  I  asked  helplessly. 

"Sandro  is  dressed,"  she  retorted  with  apparent  ir- 
relevance. 

"Don't  call  him  that!"  I  exclaimed,  fairly  exasper- 
ated with  the  girl.  "You  have  absolutely  no  proof  that 
it's  Sandro." 

"I'll  get  proof,"  she  said.  "You  wait— I'll  get 
proof." 

"Nonsense!"  I  said.     "Hush  up!     Here  he  comes." 

But  it  wasn't  the  creature  after  all,  but  the  cook — 
a  distressed  and  excitable  Frenchman  in  a  pointed 
nightcap  and  an  unconquerable  belief  that  the  house 
was  on  fire;  and  for  several  minutes  we  were  fully 
occupied  with  dissuading  him  of  the  idea.  And  after 
him  came  the  rest  of  the  crew — a  straggling,  shivering, 
sleepy,  indignant  lot,  in  varying  degrees  of  dishevel- 
ment,  appearing  in  twos  and  threes  and  huddling  in 
a  little  group  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway,  ready  to 
dart  back  through  the  swinging  door  to  their  own 
quarters  at  an  instant's  notice,  and  no  doubt  planning 
to  give  notice  as  soon  as  anybody  appeared  to  whom 
it  could  be  given. 

One  Irish  girl,  a  kitchen  maid,  I  think  she  was,  had 
somehow  got  the  idea  that  a  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted, and  called  upon  her  patron  saint,  whose  name 
seemed  to  be  Ochsaveus,  at  irregular  but  emphatic 
intervals.  I  think  I  cannot  convey  a  sense  of  the  com- 
plete demoralization  of  these  underlings  more  clearly 
than  by  stating  that  the  chambermaid  whose  duty  it 
was  to  take  care  of  my  room  was  wearing  one  of  my 
own  boudoir  caps  without  the  least  particle  of  self- 
consciousness.  The  only  one  who  had  shown  any  poise 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  211 

at  all  was  Wilkes,  who  had  not  reappeared.  I  was  be- 
ginning to  wish  he  would  come  back  and  set  a  good 
example,  when  at  length  Sebastian  Markheim  and 
dear  Mr.  Pegg  returned  unharmed,  and  announced  that 
they  had  discovered  nothing  out  of  the  way. 

"And  not  a  trace  of  the  horse  thieves,  either!"  said 
Mr.  Pegg.  "It's  clouded  over  outside — rain  before 
long,  and  no  use  going  off  without  a  trail  of  any  kind 
before  morning.  Better  wait  for  the  sheriff." 

"I'd  say  so,  pa,"  said  Peaches.  "I  wish  you'd  speak 
to  the  help,  Mark!  They  act  like  a  bunch  of  scared 
steers." 

"Sit  down!"  commanded  Mr.  Markheim  to  his 
household  generally,  his  hair  wilder  than  ever,  his  eyes 
fairly  popping  out  of  his  head  with  anger.  "Nobody  is 
to  leave  the  hall  until  I  give  permission.  Where  the 
hell  is  that  food  I  ordered?" 

Somebody  rang  a  bell  for  him,  and  after  a  very 
short  wait  Wilkes  entered,  accompanied  by  one  of 
the  footmen,  who  bore  a  tray  containing  some  most 
welcome  refreshment.  Peaches  and  I  declined  the 
drink,  but  Sebastian  took  three  in  quick  succession. 

"Terribly  upset,  terribly  upset!"  he  remarked  as 
he  set  down  his  glass  and  refilled  it.  "Somebody  is  go- 
ing to  pay  for  this !  Where  the  devil  are  the  police  ?" 

"They  are  coming  a  long  way  pretty  late  at  night," 
remarked  Peaches.  "I  don't  know  that  I'd  come  at 
all  in  their  place,  Mark." 

He  simply  glared  at  her  and  bit  into  a  cheese 
sandwich.  And  then  we  settled  down  more  or  less 
restlessly  to  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  waiting,  dividing 
our  attention  between  the  sandwiches,  repetition  of 
the  obvious  facts  of  the  situation,  and  glances  at  Mark- 
heim's  wrist  watch. 


212  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

At  length  we  heard  the  siren  of  an  automobile  at  the 
gates  below  the  hill,  and  in  a  few  moments  more, 
Wilkes,  still  the  most  self-possessed  servant  present, 
opened  the  door  to  admit  the  inspector  from  Tarry- 
town,  who  came  accompanied  by  an  officer  and  a  third 
man  in  plain  clothes — presumably  a  detective. 

"Good  evening — or  rather  good  morning,  inspec- 
tor!" said  Mr.  Markheim,  rising  to  greet  him.  "Sorry 
to  have  brought  you  out,  but  it's  not  a  common  bur- 
glary at  all." 

"It's  usual  to  report  such  things,"  replied  the  in- 
spector. "We  came  as  quickly  as  possible.  Nobody 
hurt,  was  there?" 

"No,"  said  Markheim.  "But  a  picture  has  been 
stolen." 

The  faces  of  all  three  newcomers  expressed  a  disgust 
that  was  so  apparent  as  to  bring  a  smile  even  to  the 
face  of  our  profoundly  troubled  host. 

"Wait!"  he  said.  "Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Ma- 
donna of  the  Lamp,  inspector?" 

"Can't  say  that  I  did,"  the  police  official  admitted. 
"And  I'm  a  pretty  good  Catholic  myself." 

"Well — it's  a  painting,"  Markheim  explained,  con- 
cealing his  impatience  as  best  he  could,  which  in  point 
of  fact  is  not  saying  a  great  deal  for  his  power  of 
self-control.  "It  is  not  only  a  painting  but  a  very 
famous  one." 

"Kind  of  an  antique,  eh?"  suggested  the  officer. 

"Not  only  an  antique  but  one  of  the  most  famous 
and  valuable  paintings  in  the  world.  I  paid  five  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  for  it." 

At  length  officialdom  seemed  impressed. 

"And  it's  been  stolen?"  said  the  spokesman  of  the 
law. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


"What  else  under  God's  heaven  did  you  think  I 
sent  for  you  about?"  Markheim  exploded.  "You  don't 
seem  to  understand  this  at  all  !" 

"Italian,  eh  ?"  said  the  man  in  plain  clothing.  "In- 
ternational complications  are  very  possible  if  the  thing 
gets  too  much  publicity.  That's  about  the  idea,  isn't 
it?" 

Markheim  turned  on  him  in  some  surprise. 

"You  seem  to  know  a  lot  about  the  Italian  Govern- 
ment's theories  of  ownership!"  he  snarled. 

"So  it  was  brought  into  the  country  illegally  !"  com- 
mented the  detective.  "Captain,"  he  went  on,  address- 
ing the  now  frankly  bewildered  officer,  "you  see  this 
picture  is  not  only  far  more  valuable  than  most  great 
jewels  but  it  has  a  past  almost  as  complicated  as  the 
Hope  diamond.  It's  not  unusual  that  a  world-famous 
work  of  art  should  find  its  way  out  of  Italy  in  spite  of 
the  Italian  law,  which  forbids  the  export  of  such  things, 
but  the  theft  is  far  more  remarkable  than  that  of  any 
jewel  could  possibly  be,  inasmuch  as  the  supreme  diffi- 
culty of  disposing  of  the  painting  once  it  was  stolen 
is  obvious  —  that's  right,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Markheim  ?" 

"You  explain  it  very  well,  very  well,"  replied  Mark- 
heim, nervous  and  excited—  and  truth  to  tell  not  a 
little  affected  by  the  cocktails  he  had  imbibed.  It  was 
most  precarious,  taking  so  many  upon  an  empty  stom- 
ach, as  he  should  have  known.  "You  have  a  very  clear 
idea,  young  man  —  though  allow  me  to  make  it  plain 
that  I  was  in  no  way  involved  in  the  original  affair 
of  bringing  this  canvas  into  the  United  States.  I  had 
nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  it  —  nothing." 

"You  merely  paid  five  hundred  thousand  for  it  after 
it  got  here,"  remarked  Peaches.  "I  see." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


The  remark,  however,  seemed  to  pass  unnoticed  by 
anyone  save  myself. 

"Have  you  any  suspicion  as  to  who  the  thief  might 
have  been,  Mr.  Markheim?"  asked  the  inspector,  visi- 
bly impressed  by  the  huge  sum  at  which  the  picture 
was  valued. 

"Not  a  very  clear  suspicion,"  replied  Sebastian. 

"Then  there  is  some  one  ?"  queried  the  officer,  taking 
out  his  notebook  and  pencil  in  an  important  manner. 

"We  had  some  trouble  last  night,"  replied  Mr.  Mark- 
heim. "Miss  Talbot  here  thought  she  saw  two  men 
in  the  garden,  and  came  downstairs." 

"Ah  !"  remarked  the  inspector,  scribbling.  "Did  you 
get  a  good  look  at  them,  Miss  Talbot?" 

"Just  a  glimpse,"  I  replied. 

"And  where  were  you  when  you  saw  them?"  he 
went  on. 

For  a  moment  I  was  nonplussed.  Then  I  recollected 
that  I  was  not  under  oath,  and  told  as  much  of  the 
truth  as  I  deemed  warrantable  or  indeed  necessary. 

"I  was  at  an  upper  window,"  I  returned  with  dig- 
nity. "I  had  gone  upstairs  for  the  night." 

"Ah!"  said  the  inspector,  writing  it  down.  "Could 
you  identify  them?" 

"Well,  one  had  a  funny  hat,"  I  said.  "I  think  I 
would  know  it  again.  It  was  straw  —  like  this  young 
man's."  I  pointed  at  the  detective,  to  whom  I  had 
taken  a  dislike  —  he  was  altogether  too  clever  to  be 
satisfactory.  At  once  everybody  stared  at  him  with 
suspicion,  and  the  fact  gave  me  considerable  comfort. 
Even  the  inspector  glanced  at  the  young  man  unpleas- 
antly as  he  wrote  down  "straw-hat." 

"Did  you  see  anything  else?"  the  inspector  went  on. 

Again  I  hesitated,  for  Peaches'  eyes  were  upon  me, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  S15 

forbidding  me  to  speak.  I  could  plainly  discern  that 
if  I  told  of  the  circumstances  under  which  I  had  come 
upon  Wilkes  in  the  library  she  intended  to  have  what 
she  would  have  called  "an  all-round  showdown" — a 
card  term,  I  believe.  And  so  on  second  consideration 
I  decided  to  hold  my  tongue.  After  all  I  was  not  a 
professional  detective;  let  those  who  were  go  ahead 
and  detect. 

"I  merely  met  one  of  the  menservants  who  had  also 
seen  the  intruders,"  I  replied.  "And  together  we 
roused,  or  rather  found  the  watchman,  and  informed 
him  of  what  we  had  seen." 

"Where  is  this  manservant?"  asked  the  officer.  And 
Wilkes  stepped  forward. 

"Now  what  did  you  see?"  asked  the  inquisitor. 

"I  was  awake  late,  sir,"  replied  Wilkes,  "and  fancied 
I  heard  an  unusual  noise.  It  might  have  been  Miss 
Talbot,  sir,  but  I  rather  think  it  was  the  men  she 
speaks  of,  sir.  The  watchman,  Pedro,  and  I  went  the 
rounds  together  but  found  nothing.  He  hadn't  heard 
anything,  it  seems." 

"That  will  do  for  now,"  said  the  officer.  "Now,  for 
Pedro — is  he  present?" 

"He  has  been  missing  since  this — I  mean  since  early 
yesterday  morning,"  put  in  Markheim.  "Very  good 
man,  very  good  man — I  can't  understand  it,  really!" 

"Well,  perhaps  you  will  understand  when  we  locate 
him!"  replied  the  law  grimly.  "And  now,  if  you 
please,  is  there  any  other  member  of  the  household 
missing?" 

"No — all  here,"  replied  Markheim.  "Would  you 
care  to  take  a  look  now  at  the  room  from  which  the 
picture  was  stolen,  Mister  Inspector?" 


216  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"If  you  please,"  said  that  official.  "If  you  will  just 
show  me." 

Without  more  ado  Sebastian  Markheim  led  the  way 
down  the  corridor  to  the  library,  followed  closely  by 
the  police  and  that  nasty  smart  little  detective,  while 
Mr.  Pegg,  Alicia  and  myself  brought  up  the  rear. 
I  noticed  that  Peaches  scrutinized  Wilkes'  face  with 
a  long,  searching  glance  as  she  passed  him,  but  the 
man  remained  motionless  and  expressionless  as  a 
wooden  image.  I  could  have  slapped  her  for  her  be- 
havior! But  I  was  not  fated  to  have  the  opportunity 
for  any  such  chastisement,  or  even  to  think  to  rebuke 
her  properly,  for  a  cry  from  Sebastian  Markheim' s 
lips  as  he  entered  the  library  door  sent  us  all  hurrying 
after  him  pell-mell. 

And  no  wonder  he  had  called  out  in  his  amazement, 
for  upon  entering,  lo,  there  was  the  Madonna  of  the 
Lamp  smiling  down  from  her  frame  as  serenely  as 
if  she  had  never  been  disturbed  from  it  at  all! 


XIV 

IN  one  of  his  discourses  upon  the  art  of  narrative, 
whether  of  fiction  or  fact,  my  dear  father  remarks  on 
the  difficulties  pertaining  to  narration  in  the  first  per- 
son. "For  it  invariably  happens,"  he  says,  "that  some 
portion  of  those  events  to  which  the  narrator  is  party, 
or  which  directly  affects  his  subsequent  actions,  will 
be  enacted  while  he  is  absent,  but  which  must  neverthe- 
less be  described  by  him  in  order  that  the  sequence  of 
the  tale  be  fully  comprehended  by  the  reader.  Never- 
theless the  events  so  recorded  must  perforce  be  obtained 
at  secondhand,  and  suffer  to  a  certain  degree  in  their 
quality  of  convincingness  by  reason  of  their  losing 
direct  contact  with  the  author;  and  however  credible 
the  witness  from  whom  tne  facts  are  obtained,  they 
must  naturally  take  a  certain  color  from  his  own  per- 
sonality, and  hence  a  deplorable  lack  of  continuity 
occurs,  which  greatly  weakens  the  credibility  of  the 
tale." 

Very  interesting,  too,  and  eminently  correct,  though 
I  confess  that  the  paragraph,  while  perfectly  familiar 
to  me  because  of  my  diligent  study  of  my  dear  father's 
writings,  was  never  so  clear  to  me  as  when  I  came 
upon  a  practical  application  of  it  in  my  own  experi- 
ence ;  a  thought  which  has  very  likely  occurred  to  more 
than  one  person  who  has  had  some  sudden  occasion  to 
perceive  the  fundamental  truth  of  a  familiar  copy-book 
axiom,  such  as  "Honesty  is  the  best  policy,"  if  you  un- 
derstand me.  But  I  digress — or  rather,  what  I  mean 

217 


218  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

is  this:  That  while  I  undertook  the  writing  of  this 
chronicle  in  order  to  refute  a  false  impression  which 
the  newspapers  had  created  regarding  the  name  of  Tal- 
bot,  and  also  to  retrieve  the  fair  and  unsullied  name 
of  the  Peggs,  I  find  to  my  dismay  that  as  I  reach  the 
crux  of  the  whole  matter,  I  was  not  actually  present  at 
some  of  the  most  important  events  with  which  my 
narrative  has  to  deal,  and  that  I  must  therefore  rely  on 
Peaches'  account  of  it.  That  she  was  fairly  accurate 
in  her  statement  I  feel  reasonably  certain;  but  I  must 
confess  to  some  chagrin  at  missing  the  best  part  of  the 
story.  It  seems  to  have  been  my  fortune  through  life 
to  take  an  active  part  merely  through  inadvertence. 

And  yet  I  scarcely  perceive  how  I  could  very  well 
have  been  there  when  it  happened.  Two  elements  in- 
tervened to  prevent  it — an  overwhelming  desire  for 
.  the  sleep  of  which  I  had  been  deprived  for  the  best  part 
of  two  nights,  and  the  natural  desire  on  Peaches'  part 
that  she  have  privacy  for  what  she  was  about  to  do. 
Which,  of  course,  did  not  develop  until  after  the  de- 
parture of  the  police  inspector  and  his  henchmen. 

In  the  first  place,  of  course,  we  were  simply  dum- 
founded  at  finding  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp  in  her 
proper  place.  How  it  had  got  there  and  by  whom  it 
was  returned  was  an  overwhelming  mystery.  No  less 
astonishing  was  the  question  as  to  where  it  had  been 
during  its  absence.  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  policemen 
felt  that  a  hoax  of  some  kind  had  been  perpetrated 
and  they  were  not  to  blame  for  experiencing  a  very 
considerable  annoyance  at  being  pulled  out  of  bed  or 
out  of  office  or  some  such  thing  and  motoring  all  that 
long  way  for  nothing.  They  were  distinctly  annoyed. 
That  is,  all  except  the  little  one  without  a  uniform,  who 
it  later  developed  was  not  a  detective  at  all.  Indeed  at 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  219 

the  time  we  should  have  realized  that  he  was  altogether 
too  clever  for  a  detective.  He  was,  in  point  of  fact, 
a  newspaper  reporter.  And  it  was  through  his  efforts 
that  we  were  subjected  to  all  the  mortification  of  so 
much  publicity. 

Well,  at  any  rate,  he  was  the  only  person  who  did 
not  seem  to  think  he  had  been  disturbed  for  nothing. 
On  the  contrary,  he  made  a  number  of  notes  about  the 
picture,  the  painter  of  it,  the  name  and  status  of  every 
person  present,  with  a  fiendish  correctness;  no  detail 
of  possible  interest  to  the  public  eluded  him.  And 
no  wonder  his  printed  version  was  so  completely  cor- 
rect, as,  under  the  impression  that  he  was  an  officer 
of  the  law,  I  myself  supplied  the  information. 

It  was  almost  another  hour  before  the  excitement 
died  down,  the  three  men  took  their  departure,  and 
the  servants  were  packed  off  to  bed. 

I  regret  that  it  is  here  necessary  to  chronicle  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Markheim  had  taken  rather  too  many 
cocktails ;  but  such  is  the  painful  truth.  His  wealth 
having  made  a  large  cellar  possible,  he  was  inclined 
to  prodigality  in  this  direction,  and  each  of  the  series 
of  nervous  shocks  which  he  experienced  served  as  an 
excuse  for  another  drink.  And  when  the  last  servant, 
including  Wilkes,  had  gone  upstairs,  he  was,  I  must 
admit  it,  quite  elevated  by  the  alcoholic  stimulants  in 
which  he  had  indulged  upon  his  own  prescription.  In 
rather  simpler  language,  Mr.  Pegg  crudely  referred 
to  his  prospective  son-in-law  as  having  "a  considerable 
snoot  full."  An  unscientific  but  descriptive  statement. 

"Well— I  am  going  to  hit  the  old  alfalfa!"  Pinto 
announced.  "Time  for  everybody  to  turn  in!" 

"I'm  going  to  sit  on  this  sofa  all  night !"  announced 


220  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Sebastian  with  alcoholic  determination.  "Can't  tell, 
can't  tell,  they  might  come  back!" 

"Oh,  might  they!"  said  Mr.  Pegg.  "Well,  I  don't 
care  to  see  the  beauties.  I  have  an  idea  that  they 
will  let  that  oil  painting  alone  for  quite  a  season  now. 
Good  night." 

"Come,  Peaches,"  I  said  stiffly,  for  Sebastian  was 
not  a  sight  to  inspire  much  liking  or  approval.  "Come 
on  to  bed,  that's  a  good  girl." 

There  was  a  curious  gleam  in  that  young  woman's 
golden  eyes,  however,  and  her  mouth  had  a  set  look 
about  it  which  I  had  never  seen  there  before  except 
upon  one  occasion;  and  that  was  on  the  ranch  when 
one  of  the  Japanese  foremen  was  insolent  to  her.  He 
went  away  like  a  whipped  dog,  I  recall,  and  afterward 
proved  himself  the  best  man  we  had.  And  to  do  this 
with  a  Jap  is  an  achievement,  I  assure  you.  And  all 
she  had  done  was  to  speak  to  him.  She  was  no  shrew, 
but  she  had  a  sharp  way  of  presenting  an  unpleasant 
truth.  I  glanced  at  the  recumbent  Markheim  in  pity, 
even  before  she  answered  me. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  Mark,"  she  replied 
quietly.  "I  will  come  up  later.  Don't  wait  for  me." 

Well,  what  could  a  chaperon  do  under  these  condi- 
tions except  comply?  Besides,  I  have  not  the  vitality 
of  extreme  youth,  and  sleep  was  on  the  very  verge  of 
overwhelming  me.  Besides,  which,  Mr.  Pegg  ex- 
changed a  glance  with  me,  which  reenforced  his  daugh- 
ter's request ;  and  so  saying  good  night  to  the  engaged 
pair  we  left  them  and  climbed  the  stairs  in  company. 
In  another  hour  it  would  be  dawn  and  the  house  was 
very  ghostly.  It  was  immensely  comforting  to  have 
dear  Mr.  Pegg  accompany  me  to  my  door,  though  once 
there  he  sprang  a  rather  disconcerting  surprise. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  221 

"Say — do  you  know  what  book  that  was  Peaches 
came  down  to  get?"  he  asked  with  twinkling  eyes  as 
he  opened  my  door  for  me.  "Rather  curious  reading 
for  a  young  girl.  I  don't  want  her  tastes  to  get  per- 
verted." 

"What — what  book  was  it?"  I  inquired,  disturbed. 

"You  ought  to  look  after  what  she  reads  more 
carefully,"  said  her  father  with  some  severity.  "It 
was  Kimball's  Commercial  Arithmetic.  Good-night, 
Miss  Free !" 

And  with  that  he  was  gone,  leaving  me  to  digest  his 
statement  as  best  I  could.  However,  the  significance 
of  the  remark  was  soon  obliterated  by  a  heavy  slum- 
ber which  lasted  until  I  was  roused  by  Peaches,  who 
brought  me  an  eleven-o'clock  breakfast  and  the  aston- 
ishing story  of  what  occurred  after  I  had  retired.  I 
will  not  attempt  to  tell  it  in  her  own  language,  for 
she  was  incurably  given  to  the  use  of  slang,  but  will 
endeavor  to  present  in  their  proper  sequence  the  events 
as  they  occurred. 

As  soon  as  Peaches  was  left  alone  with  her  fiance 
the  disgust  and  repulsion  which  had  been  rapidly 
mounting  in  her  breast  all  evening  reached  its  apex 
in  expression.  True,  Sebastian  Markheim  was  no  dif- 
ferent from  what  he  had  been  right  along — a  little  less 
attractive,  rather  more  grotesquely  disordered  and  a 
little  more  drunken,  perhaps,  but  Markheim  just  the 
same — slightly  accented,  that  was  all.  But  the  small 
exaggerations  were  enough  to  drive  her  wild.  Com- 
ing to  light  as  they  did  at  a  moment  when  she  was  at 
the  highest  possible  tension,  when  for  forty-eight  hours 
she  had  been  living  with  the  animate  ghost  of  her  old 
and  far  deeper  love,  the  spectacle  of  this  disorganized 
little  millionaire  with  his  ungroomed  head,  his  pre- 


222  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

posterous  purple  satin  wrapper,  his  stupid  drunkenness 
and  his  ineffective  querulousness  about  his  picture  was 
too  much  for  her.  The  very  thought  of  marrying  him 
became  more  than  the  mere  impossibility  which  it  had 
been  from  the  moment  when  her  memories  of  Sandro 
had  been  quickened  into  new  life.  This  marriage,  now 
only  a  few  weeks  distant,  became  an  actual  horror. 
She  felt  unable  to  face  the  thought  of  it  another  hour. 
And  so,  despite  his  condition,  she  set  about  making  a 
clean  break. 

"Mark,"  said  she  in  a  low  strained  voice,  towering 
over  him  as  he  sat  in  a  crumpled  heap  upon  the  big 
sofa  before  the  fire  place,  "Mark — I  am  not  going  to 
marry  you." 

"Eh?    What's  that,  what's  that?"  said  he. 

"I  said  that  it's  all  off!"  Peaches  affirmed.  "I 
couldn't  marry  you — not  on  a  bet.  I'm  awfully  sorry 
of  course.  Will  you  forgive  me?" 

"Forgive  you !"  he  said,  getting  to  his  feet  and  seiz- 
ing her  by  the  hand.  "Here — sit  down  a  minute — - 
you  can't  do  that,  you  know — sit  down  and  let's  talk 
this  over!" 

She  did  not  want  to  do  so,  but  his  grip  upon  her  arm 
was  strong,  and  rather  than  cross  him  she  complied. 

"You  don't  understand — I'm  breaking  it  off,"  she 
said  firmly. 

"But  what  have  I  done?"  Sebastian  asked.  "Come 
on  now — don't  be  mad  at  me !  Didn't  I  pet  you  enough 
to-night?  Come — give  us  a  kiss  and  forget  it!" 

"I  don't  want  to  kiss  you!"  said  Peaches,  drawing 
away  from  his  advance.  ''Please,  Mark!  I'm  trying 
to  tell  you  that  I  had  the  wrong  dope— I  never  loved 
you  enough  to  marry  you,  and  to-night  I  got  a  gleam 
of  light.  I  can't  go  through  with  it." 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 223 

"Not  go  through  with  it !"  he  replied  sullenly.  As 
the  fact  that  she  really  meant  what  she  said  slowly 
penetrated  to  his  befuddled  brain  a  look  of  anger  took 
the  place  of  the  maudlin  affection  which  had  been  in 
his  face  a  moment  before.  "Not  go  through  with  it — 
but  you — you  promised.  Why,  the  wedding  invita- 
tions go  out  tomorrow — impossible  not  to  go  through 
with  it!" 

"I'm  sorry — but  you  heard  me,"  said  she.  "I  don't 
fove  you." 

"But  I  love  you!"  he  burst  out.  "And  as  for  love 
— you  don't  know  anything  about  it.  What  can  a 
great  big  kid  like  you  know  about  love?  You'll  love 
me  when  we  are  married!  Stop  your  nonsense  and 
give  us  a  kiss !" 

He  made  a  lunge  at  her,  which  she  managed  to  evade, 
moving  over  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  sofa.  But 
quick  as  a  cat  Markheim  was  after  her.  He  was  just 
drunk  enough  to  have  lost  his  head,  but  not  drunk 
enough  to  be  clumsy.  It  was  at  this  moment  that 
Peaches  began  to  be  afraid  of  him. 

"No,  no!"  she  cried,  trying  to  get  away  from  his 
pudgy  hands.  "I  tell  you  I  don't  love  you — please! 
Let  me  alone.  Mark,  don't  make  me  afraid!" 

"Why  should  you  be  afraid?"  he  asked  thickly. 
"You  are  going  to  marry  me — do  you  hear?  I've  stood 
your  offishness  long  enough.  I've  kept  away  from  you 
whenever  you  said.  I've  been  a  fool!  But  you  are 
mine,  understand?  Mine!  You've  promised.  Every- 
one knows  it,  and  by  heaven  I'll  take  you  when  I  see 
fit.  Come  here !" 

Peaches  felt  as  if  she  were  caught  in  the  meshes  of 
some  horrid  dream.  With  a  sudden  wrench  she  broke 
loose  from  him,  darting  round  the  end  of  the  sofa. 


224  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

But  with  an  amazing  agility  Markheim  vaulted  the 
back  and  was  after  her,  hot  in  a  pursuit  made  silent  by 
the  thickness  of  the  heavy  carpet,  their  panting  breath 
the  only  noise  in  the  big  room.  A  single  lamp  was 
the  only  light,  but  it  was  enough  to  show  her  his  face, 
purple,  bestial — suggesting  a  chasm  of  horror. 

Swift  as  she  was  she  could  not  escape  him.  He 
was  at  the  door  behind  her,  barring  her  way,  smiling 
terribly.  Then  at  the  French  windows  as  quickly  as 
she  reached  them,  his  hot  moist  hands  upon  hers,  even 
as  she  seized  the  knob.  Then  back  across  the  room 
again  in  fierce  pursuit.  He  seemed  to  have  gone  quite 
mad  and  become  possessed  with  an  uncanny  swiftness 
and  strength.  Then  Peaches  stumbled  across  a  great 
chair,  and  in  another  instant  his  arms  were  about  her, 
his  hot  breath  upon  her  face. 

"Help!"  she  cried,  struggling  to  release  her  hands, 
which  he  held  behind  her  back.  "Help!  Sebastian — 
you  beast — let  me  go,  let  me  go!" 

And  then  the  whirlwind  happened.  Some  terrific 
force  like  a  giant  cloud  of  vengeance  tore  the  satyr 
from  her;  and  there  was  Sandro,  his  face  white  and 
fierce.  With  a  single  gesture  he  had  thrown  Markheim 
half  across  the  room,  and  stood  with  squared  fists 
waiting  for  the  assault  which  came  almost  at  once. 

"You  rotter !"  sang  out  the  newcomer.  "Take  your 
dirty  hide  out  of  here!" 

With  a  howl  of  rage  and  surprise  Markheim  picked 
himself  up  and  came  at  his  manservant  with  purple 
face  and  popping  eyes. 

"What  the  hell  are  you  doing  here?"  he  shouted. 
"Leave  the  room!" 

"Not  until  I've  given  you  the  thrashing  of  your 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  225 

life!"  replied  the  valet.  "Come  and  get  your  punish- 
ment if  you  won't  clear  out!" 

And  Markheim  came.  With  a  roar  he  flew  at  the 
man,  striking"  blindly,  wildly,  and  uttering  a  volley  of 
language  which  was  in  itself  a  shower  of  blows.  How 
long  they  fought  Peaches  hardly  knows.  Crouched 
against  the  mantelshelf  as  if  seeking  the  protection 
of  the  calmly  smiling  Virgin  above,  she  watched  the 
two  men  struggle  to  a  finish.  She  was  fascinated, 
terrified,  and  at  the  same  time  fiercely  exalted.  The 
end  came  abruptly,  with  Markheim  sprawling  on  the 
floor,  and  Sandro  slowly  raising  himself  to  a  towering 
figure  of  contemptuous  victory  above  his  employer. 

"Get  up!"  he  said,  panting,  as  he  administered  a 
kick  to  the  prostrate  body  of  the  other  man.  "That 
will  do,  I  expect.  Get  up!" 

Moaning,  Sebastian  obeyed,  his  face  streaked  with 
blood  from  a  cut  upon  his  forehead,  his  left  eye  swollen 
and  rapidly  turning  as  purple  as  the  tattered  remains 
of  his  dressing  gown. 

"I'll  have  the  law  on  you  for  this !"  he  warned,  fum- 
bling for  his  handkerchief. 

"Come  here!"  commanded  the  servant  in  a  voice  of 
authority. 

"Help!"  squeaked  Markheim.  But  before  he  could 
utter  another  sound  Wilkes  had  him  by  the  collar,  and 
was  dragging  him  to  where  Peaches  still  cowered 
against  the  wall. 

"None  of  that  nonsense!"  commanded  Sandro.  "If 
you  yell  I'll  have  to  give  you  another  drubbing.  Now 
get  down  on  your  knees  and  ask  her  pardon!" 

For  an  instant  Markheim  attempted  to  disobey.  But 
his  captor  raised  his  hand  and  as  though  at  a  signal 
Sebastian  fell  groveling  on  the  floor  before  Peaches, 


226  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

bubbling  repentance — a  loathsomely  servile  thing  from 
which  she  shrank. 

"Oh,  take  him  away !"  she  begged.  "I  hate  him  so ! 
Take  him  away!" 

"You  hear  what  she  says !"  said  her  rescuer  grimly. 
"Go  now !  Make  haste  or  I  will  throw  you  out !" 

With  some  difficulty  Markheim  got  upon  his  feet 
and  made  for  the  door. 

"The  police !"  he  said.  "I  will  have  the  police !  Oh, 
my  face — my  face!" 

He  had  found  his  handkerchief  now,  and  staggered 
out  of  the  room,  holding  it  to  his  wound  and  mumbling 
imprecations. 

Slowly  Peaches  emerged  from  her  torpor  of  fright 
and  looked  at  the  man  who  an  hour  earlier  had  been 
a  servant.  He  was  transformed.  His  shoulders  were 
squared,  his  eyes  alive,  his  face  flushed — he  was  her 
boy-lover  again.  There  was  no  mistake.  Now  she 
knew  him  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  If  she  had 
ever  really  questioned  his  identity,  from  this  moment 
there  was  no  room  for  questioning  left.  All  the 
tightening  of  her  heartstrings,  long  drawn  taut  by  re- 
pression, relaxed.  It  was  as  if  her  whole  being  had 
suddenly  been  flooded  with  warm  sunlight. 

"Sandro!"  she  said,  going  toward  him  with  out- 
stretched arms.  "Sandro,  my  love,  my  love!" 

For  one  second  she  saw  the  unwitting,  involuntary 
response  in  his  eyes.  Then  he  looked  down,  that  she 
might  not  behold  it,  and  drawing  himself  up  he  clicked 
his  heels  together  and  bowed.  Though  he  trembled 
as  he  did  so,  his  voice  was  controlled. 

"Miss  Pegg,"  he  said,  "I — I  am  happy  to  have  served 
you!  Good  night." 

"Sandro!"  cried  Peaches.     "Why  do  you  pretend? 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  227 

I  know  you — I  know.  You  couldn't  fool  me  now ! 
My  dear,  I  thought  that  you  were  dead.  But  even 
on  the  day  we  got  here  I  knew  you — I  knew  you  in 
the  hall,  that  first  moment.  Oh,  why  do  you  keep 
away  from  me  like  that?  Don't  you  love  me — don't 
you  want  me?  Why  do  you  pretend?" 

"Don't!  Please!"  he  entreated.  "Miss  Pegg,  I— 
am  just  a  servant  in  this  house!" 

"I  don't  care  what  you  are!"  she  cried  recklessly. 
"You  are  Sandy.  I  know  you  and  I  love  you." 

"My  God!"  he  said,  the  familiar  pet  name  striking 
home  at  last.  "Don't!  You  cannot  understand  my 
position.  I  tell  you  I  am  a  servant.  It  is  some  chance 
resemblance." 

She  switched  on  the  main  light  then  and  came  nearer, 
scanning  his  face  closely.  His  hands  clenched  at  his 
sides,  but  otherwise  he  remained  immovable. 

"You  cannot  make  me  doubt,"  she  said  at  length. 
"You  are  Sandro  di  Monteventi,  who  was  reported 
killed  at " 

"Miss  Pegg — don't  make  it  too  hard!"  he  said  hum- 
bly. "Will  you  not  accept  my  statement  and  let  me 
go?" 

"No !"  she  said  fiercely.  "Because  I  know  who  you 
are — and  because  I  know  that  you  love  me.  There! 
I  have  told  the  truth !" 

"It  is  true  that  I  love  you,"  he  admitted.  "One  need 
not  have  seen  you  for  longer  than  a  day  for  that. 
But  why  do  you  persist  I  am  this  stranger?" 

"Because  I  know  it!"  she  declared. 

"You  could  not  prove  it!"  he  said  simply. 

"I  don't  have  to!"  she  said,  going  closer.  "Oh, 
Sandy,  Sandy,  I  love  you  so !  I  have  been  hungry  for 
you  such  a  long,  long  time !" 


228  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

She  slipped  her  arms  round  his  neck.  And  then  for 
a  long  while  she  was  not  conscious  of  anything  except 
his  lips  upon  hers,  and  the  blessed  iron  strength  of 
his  arms  about  her.  At  length  he  drew  away,  just 
far  enough  to  look  into  her  eyes. 

"Merciful  Madonna!"  he  breathed.  "You  are  too 
much  for  my  poor  strength.  I  have  no  right  to  touch 
you — but  how  I  love  you !" 

"I  knew  it!  I  knew  it!"  cried  Peaches,  wild  with 
triumphant  happiness.  "You'll  never  get  away  from 
me  again,  Sandro  mio!" 

But  he  pushed  her  from  him  roughly. 

"No,  no!"  he  said.  "I — you  are  wrong!  You  have 
got  to  believe  you  are  wrong,  even  though  you  hate 
yourself  and  me  as  well  for  the  glimpse  of  heaven 
you  have  given  me." 

But  she  could  not  let  him  go. 

"Have  I  got  to  have  any  other  proof?"  she  laughed. 
"Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!  Good  heavens — what  is  it?" 
she  added  in  a  changed  tone,  for  he  was  looking  over 
her  shoulder  toward  the  end  of  the  room  with  an  ex- 
pression as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost. 

Automatically  she  turned  to  follow  the  direction  of 
his  gaze,  and  almost  instantly  encountered  another 
pair  of  eyes  set  deep  in  a  white  face  that  stared  in 
at  the  window.  In  another  instant  it  was  gone,  and 
like  a  flash  her  companion  had  seized  her  by  the  elbows 
and  was  holding  her  with  a  gaze  that  riveted  her  at- 
tention. 

"See  here !"  he  said  rapidly.  "I've  got  to  leave  you. 
They've  got  me  this  time,  I'm  afraid.  But  I'll  make 
a  dash  for  it.  Say  nothing  if  I  get  away.  Silence 
will  help  me  most.  And  no  matter  who  I  am,  I  love 
you.  It  will  not  hurt  you  to  know  that.  Good-by!" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 229 

Abruptly  he  was  gone,  slipping  from  the  great  room 
as  noiselessly  as  he  had  entered  it,  his  going  swift 
as  a  shadow,  and  leaving  Peaches  temporarily  para- 
lyzed and  at  a  loss.  With  a  tremendous  effort  she 
pulled  her  wits  together  and  started  for  the  doorway 
through  which  he  had  vanished.  To  reach  it  she  had 
to  pass  the  mantelpiece,  and  as  she  did  so  she  auto- 
matically raised  her  eyes  to  the  painting  whose  calm 
beauty  had  been  the  cause  of  so  much  turmoil,  and 
a  curious  glitter  on  the  lower  edge  of  the  frame  caught 
her  eye.  The  flash  was  such  a  brilliant  one  that  de- 
spite her  preoccupation  she  stopped  to  examine  its 
source.  And  then  with  a  litle  cry  of  triumph  she 
stretched  out  her  hand  toward  it. 

On  the  lower  carvings  of  the  ornate  Florentine  frame 
lay  a  little  gold  penknife  studded  with  diamonds — 
her  own  jeweled  penknife,  the  one  with  which  Sandro 
di  Monteventi  had  cut  that  long- faded  rose  in  the 
garden  at  San  Remo — the  precious  trinket  which  she 
had  given  him  for  a  keepsake.  The  proof!  It  was 
the  proof  positive!  In  a  single  flash  a  great  deal 
became  clear.  He  had  left  it  there  earlier  in  the  evening 
— at  the  time  the  picture  was  missed — perhaps  at 
the  time  it  was  put  back! — and  missing  it  he  had  later 
returned  to  retrieve  it  when  he  fancied  that  every  one 
was  asleep,  and  so  had  stumbled  upon  her  scene  with 
Markheim,  and  come  to  her  rescue.  Seizing  the  tell- 
tale toy  she  kissed  it  wildly  and  started  for  the  door. 

"Sandro!  I  have  proof!"  she  cried,  though  she 
knew  he  could  not  hear  her. 

"Proof  of  what,  signorina?"  said  a  voice  in  the 
doorway.  And  there,  blocking  the  entrance  to  the 
corridor,  was  the  figure  of  a  bearded  man.  With  a 
cry  Peaches  shrank  back,  instinctively  hiding  the  knife 


230  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

in  the  palm  of  her  hand.  The  intruder  had  a  sinister 
look.  His  hat  was  pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes 
and  his  coat  collar  was  pulled  up  about  his  ears. 

"What  do  you  want?"  demanded  Peaches  huskily. 
"What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

She  was  retreating  toward  the  bell  as  she  spoke,  the 
man's  gaze  following  her  action  without  protest.  Com- 
ing well  into  the  room  he  removed  his  hat,  shaking 
a  few  drops  from  it  as  he  did  so.  The  shoulders  of 
the  coat  were  also  wet.  Evidently  it  was  raining 
heavily  outside.  His  face  as  revealed  in  the  stronger 
light  was  less  alarming,  and  he  spoke  in  an  even  tone. 

"Ring  by  all  means !"  said  he.  "Bring  help  as  soon 
as  possible!  As  for  who  I  am,"  he  went  on,  throwing 
back  his  wet  coat  and  revealing  a  silver  badge,  "I  am 
Pedro,  the  missing  night  watchman,  and  I  have  a 
warrant  of  extradition  for  the  arrest  of  Sandro  di 
Monteventi,  alias  The  Eel — wanted  by  the  Interna- 
tional Secret  Service  for  the  theft  of  the  Scarpia 
panels  and  sundry  charges." 

"Go  on,  ring,  miss,"  said  a  second  man,  follow- 
ing in  on  the  heels  of  the  first;  a  man  whom  Peaches 
instantly  recognized  as  the  face  at  the  window.  "Ring, 
please — we  know  he  is  in  the  house — and  incidentally 
don't  you  try  to  get  away.  We  want  to  talk  to  you — 
you  seemed  to  know  him  rather  well." 


XV 

WITH  a  violent  movement  Peaches  rang  the  bell. 
And  almost  at  once  the  house  was  again  in  confusion. 
The  two  newcomers,  backed  by  the  cursing  Markheim 
and  aided  by  Mr.  Pegg,  made  straight  for  the  room 
occupied  by  Sandro.  Peaches  followed  in  their  wake, 
and  saw  them  batter  down  the  door — to  find  an  empty 
room  and  a  gaping  window. 

Of  course!  The  idiots!  Now  if  they  had  only  had 
sense  enough  to  wake  me  up  I  could  have  told  them 
better!  But  no,  they  let  me  sleep — sleep,  mind  you, 
when  all  this,  as  it  were,  human  motion  picture  was 
proceeding  right  under  my  very  nose !  I  feel  outraged, 
indignant,  as  I  consider  the  lack  of  forethought  and 
consideration  which  this  lack  of  attention  evidenced. 
Of  course  the  duke  escaped — the  ninnies  should  have 
left  some  one  outside  in  the  garden — and  their  ex- 
cuse that  they  did  not  believe  that  he  could  escape  so 
rapidly  from  the  third  story  of  the  house  would 
have  been  made  quite  unnecessary  if  I  had  been  there 
to  inform  them  of  his  nocturnal  wanderings  as  known 
to  me. 

Really,  as  I  listened  to  Peaches'  recital  I  became 
quite  distinctly  vexed.  The  fate  by  which  I  seemed 
doomed  to  remain  a  bystander  looking  on  at  life  from  a 
safe  distance  or  merely  to  be  told  about  it  at  second- 
hand or  to  read  of  it  in  printed  form  was  really  too 
annoying.  Despite  my  utmost  endeavor  I  was  ap- 

231 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


parently  to  be  cheated  of  active  participation  in  the 
great  drama  of  existence. 

But  no  one  could  look  at  Peaches'  pale  and  suffer- 
ing beauty  for  long  and  remain  unindulgent.  And 
as  I  lay  in  the  great  bed  en-joying  the  tea  and  toast 
which  she  had  so  thoughtfully  brought  me  I  restrained 
the  comments  which  sprang  to  my  lips  and  merely 
asked,  "What  happened  then?" 

"We  came  downstairs,"  said  Peaches  slowly,  twist- 
ing the  amber  beads  about  her  throat,  "Mark,  pa  and 
myself  along  with  these  two  cowbird  detectives.  I 
tell  you,  Free,  I  just  could  hardly  believe  the  story 
they  told.  But  I  had  to,  in  the  end.  You  see,  for 
one  thing,  as  I  sat  there  I  began  to  realize  I  had  seen 
the  Pedro  once  before." 

"Where?" 

"In  a  London  movie  house  —  and  in  a  hotel  bedroom 
at  Monte  Carlo,"  said  she  significantly. 

"There!"  I  cried.  "I  foiled  him  twice,  you  see! 
Now  it's  a  lucky  thing  I  wasn't  there  last  night,  isn't 
it?  Humph!  I'd  probably  have  defeated  justice 
again!  But  what  did  he  say?" 

"He's  been  after  Sandro  for  years,"  she  narrated. 
"I  am  afraid  there  isn't  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  Free, 
but  that  Sandy  is  the  cleverest  picture  thief  in  the 
world.  They  have  almost  got  him  half  a  dozen  times, 
but  never  with  conclusive  evidence.  And  thank  God, 
they  didn't  get  him  this  time,  either  —  not  yet  at  least  ! 
Why,  do  you  know,  they  are  certain  that  he  took 
the  Scarpia  panels?  It  seems,  if  you  remember,  that 
they  thought  that  they  had  been  found  in  the  cellar. 
But  it  wasn't  the  originals  that  they  found.  They  were 
reproductions  —  synthetic  pictures,  like  a  near-ruby  — 
do  you  get  me?" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  233 

"But  the  recovery  was  reported  in  the  papers,"  I 
objected. 

"The  French  Government  hushed  the  matter  up  in 
order  to  try  and  catch  him  off  his  guard,"  she  went 
on.  "And,  Free,  that's  just  what  he  has  done  in  this 
very  house." 

"How  do  you  mean — explain  yourself  grammatically 
if  possible,"  said  I. 

"I  mean  that  the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp  which  is 
hanging  in  the  library  at  this  moment  is  the  bunk," 
replied  Peaches  earnestly.  "It's  a  fake — painted  on 
new  canvas  and  nicely  antiqued.  The  cops  took  it 
down  and  showed  it  to  us." 

"And  what  did  he  want  to  steal  a  fake  for?"  I 
demanded. 

"He  didn't  want  toj  steal  a  fake,  you  dear  old 
prune!"  said  Peaches,  half  laughing.  "He  wanted  to 
steal  the  original,  and  that's  exactly  what  he  did." 

"And  got  away  with  it!"  I  gasped,  astonished  into 
a  colloquialism.  "But  when  and  how  on  earth?" 

"Very  simple,  but  clever,"  she  told  me,  quite  as  if 
it  were  to  the  young  man's  credit.  "He  had  this  fake 
all  ready  on  a  stretcher  in  his  room.  He  took  the 
original,  stretcher  and  all,  out  of  the  frame  and  up- 
stairs, where  he  unmounted  it  and  hid  it — it  isn't  large, 
you  know.  And  then,  before  he  could  slip  the  sub- 
stitute into  place,  you  and  I  came  in  from  the  garden — 
from  the  garden  where  we  had  been  waiting  for  him 
to— to " 

Here  she  broke  off  and  began  to  laugh  hysterically. 

"Come,  come,  my  dear !"  I  cried.  "Don't  do  that — 
just  remember  what  a  lucky  escape  you  have  had. 
So  we  interrupted  him  before  he  could  put  the  sub- 
stitute in  place!  Well,  land  of  goodness!  I  do  recall 


234  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

that  he  was  all  dressed  when  he  came  down  stairs  at 
Mr.  Markheim's  command!  Go  on,  do,  my  dear!" 

"Well,"  said  Peaches,  complying  with  renewed  com- 
posure, "this  Pedro-bird  claims  that  Sandy  slipped  it 
in  while  we  were  all  out  in  the  hall  with  the  servants 
and  he  was  in  and  out  apparently  taking  care  of  Mark- 
heim's orders.  If  the  secret-service  men  hadn't  been 
on  the  job  Sandy  would  in  all  probability  have  simply 
stayed  his  two  weeks  out  as  a  quiet  well-behaved 
servant,  and  then  gone  away  with  a  first-class  reference 
and  the  original  Madonna,  and  the  substitution  might 
never  have  been  found  out,  or  it  might  have  been 
years — until  some  feast  was  held  by  a  lot  of  experts  at 
Mark's  invitation — who  knows!  And  he's  been  doing 
this  sort  of  thing  for  years  and  years !" 

"Extraordinary!  Most  extraordinary!"  I  ex- 
claimed, pulling  off  my  nightcap  and  starting  to  rise. 
"I  must  really  dress  and  descend  to  take  a  look  at  that 
picture  and  the  scene  of  the  crime!" 

"You  can't!"  said  Peaches,  suddenly  listless.  "You 
can't — we  are  both  locked  in !" 

I  could  scarcely  believe  my  ears.  But  Peaches  was 
in  earnest,  there  was  no  doubt  about  that. 

"Locked  in!"  I  repeated  incredulously.  "What  on 
earth  are  you  saying,  Alicia  Pegg?" 

"I  was  saying  a  mouthful!"  she  responded.  "Pa 
has  locked  us  in." 

"But  what  for?"  I  demanded  with  proper  indigna- 
tion. 

"I  told  him  I  was  going  to  follow  Sandro,"  said 
Peaches,  as  if  the  explanation  was  the  most  obvious 
thing  possible  and  she  were  just  a  trifle  impatient  of 
my  stupidity. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  I  cried.     "Follow  him — follow 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  235 

that  thief — that — that  scoundrel?  Aren't  the  police 
following  him?  Isn't  that  following  enough?" 

"That's  just  why,"  she  announced.  "Wherever  he 
is — wherever  he  goes,  I  am  going  too.  After  last 
night  I  can't  do  anything  else.  And  if  it's  to  jail — 
all  right,  I'll  go  to  jail.  But  I  won't  stay  away  from 
him,  and  I  will  find  him  if  the  secret-service  can't,  and 
I  hope  most  heartily  they  will  make  a  flivver  of  it. 
And  I'll  never  leave  him  again — believe  me!" 

I  was  obliged  to  believe  her.  I  had,  indeed,  only  to 
look  at  her  in  order  to  do  so.  And  as  I  looked,  a 
gleam  of  human  intelligence  broke  into  my  brain. 

"Peaches,"  I  said  solemnly,  "did  you  tell  on  Mark- 
heim?" 

"Of  course  not!"  she  said,  flushing  hotly.  "He — 
wasn't  himself;  I  realize  that  now." 

"So  you  just  told  your  father  that  you  are  through 
with  Markheim  and  are  in  love  with  the  duke?" 

She  nodded  dumbly. 

"No  wonder  he  locked  you  up!"  I  gasped,  falling 
back  on  the  pillows. 

"Locked  me  up  and  said  the  marriage  would  go 
ahead  as  per  schedule,"  she  announced  grimly.  "Which 
is  bunk  of  course.  The  point  is — what  shall  we  do 
about  it  ?" 

"Have  they  caught  the  duke?"  I  inquired. 

"I  don't  believe  so,"  said  she.  "There  is  nothing 
to  that  effect  in  the  early  afternoon  newspapers  from 
New  York,  though  there's  plenty  about  the  robbery. 
Take  a  look!" 

"Let  me  see!"  I  exclaimed,  stretching  out  my  hand 
for  the  paper. 

And  forthwith  she  spread  the  lurid  sheets  before 
my  distressed  eyes.  The  headlines  were  of  the  variety 


236  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

known  as  "scare."  Not  the  German  ex-Kaiser  him- 
self, or  even  a  Bolshevist  labor  leader  was  ever 
presented  in  larger  type  than  was  the  lurid  announce- 
ment of  the  attempted  robbery.  And  all  our  names 
were  mentioned — even  that  of  Talbot — the  sacred 
family  name,  which  we  had  kept  inviolate  for  genera- 
tions against  all  newspaper  publicity  excepting  only 
mention  in  the  society  and  political  columns.  For, 
of  course,  the  difference  between  one's  appearing  as 
a  social  or  political  item  and  as  a  piece  of  mere  vulgar 
news  must  at  once  be  apparent  to  any  reader  of  re- 
fined upbringing.  And  never  before  had  the  Talbots 
been  news.  I  dreaded  to  think  how  my  sister  Eu- 
phemia  would  take  it  should  the  article  chance  to 
meet  her  eye.  She  might  eventually  forgive  me  much ; 
but  I  seriously  ^doubted  whether  her  charity  would 
ever  extend  over  newspaper  headlines.  Alas!  This 
was  but  a  foretaste  of  what  was  to  come! 

But  much  as  the  reporters  had  to  say  of  the  splendor 
of  Sebastian  Markheim's  mansion  and  the  beauty  of 
Sebastian  Markheim's  fiancee,  whose  coming  marriage 
would  be  of  the  greatest  social  consequence,  uniting 
the  greatest  fortune  of  the  East  with  the  greatest  for- 
tune of  the  Western  Coast,  and  so  on,  and  though  it 
was  further  replete  with  details  of  the  method  by  which 
the  robbery  had  been  committed,  together  with  a  florid 
account  of  the  robber's  high  station  in  life,  his  heroic 
action  in  battle,  where  he  was  supposed  to  have  been 
killed  while  defending  a  position  single-handed  in  a 
rocky  pass  during  the  Austrian  invasion,  thereby  en- 
abling the  rest  of  his  brigade  to  escape — nothing  in- 
dicated that  his  capture  was  at  this  time  considered  very 
likely.  The  authorities  were  full  of  assurances  but 
rather  short  on  facts,  to  all  appearances. 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  237 

"Well,  now,  Alicia,  my  dear,"  I  remarked  when  I 
had  satisfied  myself  that  no  detail  of  importance  had 
escaped  me  in  my  perusal  of  the  printed  account  of 
our  affair — "  now,  Alicia,  my  dear,"  said  I  "I  feel  it 
incumbent  to  be  quite  sure  that  you  know  what  you  are 
saying  when  you  announce  your  intention  of  linking 
your  life  with  that  of  this  wild  young  Italian — always 
provided  that  the  gallows  does  not  get  him  before  you 
do.  Can't  you  reconcile  yourself  to  the  idea  that  he  is 
a  thief,  no  matter  how  titled,  and  that  therefore  he  is 
no  match  for  an  honest  American  girl?" 

"Oh,  cut  the  moralizing,  Free !"  interrupted  Peaches. 
"I  am  in  love  with  him,  I  tell  you.  And  I  have  suffi- 
cient faith  in  my  own  integrity  to  believe  that  this 
wouldn't  be  true  if  he  really  was  the  yellow  dog  every- 
body seems  bent  on  trying  to  make  him  out.  Now  I've 
got  a  hunch — a  mighty  straight  hunch  that  he  is  O.  K. 
There's  more  to  this  than  we  know.  Maybe  the  old 
picture  belonged  to  his  great-grandmother  or  some- 
thing, and  he's  only  taking  it  back.  How  do  you 
know  he  isn't  doing  just  that  very  thing?" 

"But  the  Scarpia  panels  didn't  belong  to  his  grand- 
mother," I  answered  smartly. 

"But  they  haven't  got  the  goods  on  him  for  those 
other  deals,"  she  retorted.  "And  if  they  had,  I'd  still 
be  crazy  about  him.  Freedom,  this  is  a  question  of  the 
rest  of  my  life.  You've  got  to  take  my  side." 

"But  what  are  you — we  going  to  do?"  I  pleaded, 
bewildered  by  her  intensity.  "And  what  is  all  this 
nonsense  about  our  being  locked  in  these  rooms?" 

"You  just  try  to  get  out  and  see  if  it's  nonsense," 
replied  Peaches.  "You  were  asleep  when  they  locked 
me  in,  and  as  there  is  no  lock  on  the  doors  between 
our  rooms  they  locked  you  too.  I  wouldn't  let  them 


238  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

disturb  you,  not  only  because  you  were  so  tired  but 
because  I  knew  damn  well  that  if  I  let  you  out  I 
wouldn't  get  this  chance  to  talk  to  you." 

"Well,  this  is  outrageous!"  I  exclaimed,  rising  in 
good  earnest  this  time.  "We  shall  see  whether  your 
father  can  imprison  two  adult  women  in  a  free  country 
to  suit  his  whim !  I  shall  make  my  toilet  at  .once  and 
then  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see!" 

"Better  hurry  up  then!"  replied  Peaches.  "Because 
they — he  and  Mark — are  going  to  the  city  on  the 
twelve-o'clock  train.  Don't  you  remember  why  we 
came  home  early  last  night?" 

Last  night  seemed  a  thousand  years  ago.  But  she 
was  quite  right;  I  did  recall  the  fact,  and  accordingly 
made  all  possible  haste,  Peaches  assisting  me. 

"Now  look  here,  you  flighty  young  thing!"  she 
warned.  "Don't  do  anything  rash!  Remember,  you 
are  the  only  person  I  have  to  depend  on  for  help. 
Don't  go  get  yourself  kept  away  from  me  now !" 

"I  must  and  shall  interview  your  father,"  I  pro- 
tested. "But  perhaps  if  you  would  be  kind  enough  to 
give  me  an  idea  of  what  you  intend  doing  I  shall  be 
in  a  better  position  to  be  of  assistance." 

"I'm  going  to  leave  this  house  before  another  twenty- 
four  hours  are  over,"  she  declared  firmly.  "If  you 
can  persuade  pa  to  let  me  go  like  a  human,  and  come 
along  with  me,  so  much  the  better.  If  not,  I'll  have 
to  go  some  other  way  that  may  not  be  as  agreeable 
to  him  in  the  long  run." 

"Why  not  let  me  tell  him  about  that  terrible  per- 
formance of  Mr.  Markheim's?"  I  suggested.  "That 
will  be  sufficient,  or  I  mistake  your  father  greatly." 

"Sure  it  would  be  sufficient,"  said  Peaches.  "But 
then  I'd  have  to  give  myself  away  pretty  badly, 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  839 

wouldn't  I?  And  there  might  be  a  roughhouse.  Pa 
is  a  dead  shot  and  I'd  rather  get  him  out  of  shoot- 
ing distance  before  I  break  the  information  to  him. 
At  present  he  just  about  thinks  I'm  crazy  in  the  head." 

"Well,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  persuade  him  that  this 
is  the  twentieth  century  and  not  the  middle  ages!" 
I  responded.  "This  indignity  certainly  cannot  be  al- 
lowed to  continue.  But  suppose  you — we  do  get  away 
from  here  to-day,  what  then?  How  do  you  propose 
to  find  a  thief  that  the  police  will  have  a  hard  time 
discovering  ?" 

"I  don't  propose,"  said  Peaches.  "I  intend.  That's 
a  whole  lot  stronger.  How,  I  haven't  the  remotest  idea. 
But  it's  plain  enough  I  can't  do  anything  while  they've 
got  me  cooped  up  like  a  marketable  yearling,  can  I? 
Let's  get  out  of  this,  that's  the  first  thing  to  accom- 
plish." 

"Very  well,"  I  agreed,  gathering  up  my  reticule  and 
taking  up  the  house-telephone  receiver. 

I  asked  to  speak  with  Mr.  Pegg.  The  request  was 
at  once  attended  to  by  the  footman  who  responded, 
and  in  a  tone  which  brooked  no  delay  I  commanded 
the  Citrus  King  to  come  upstairs  and  release  me.  My 
tone  must  have  foreshadowed  the  mood  I  was  in, 
for  he  responded  as  if  by  magic.  In  less  than  five 
minutes  I  was  face  to  face  with  him  in  the  hall. 

"Come  on  over  and  sit  down  in  the  conservatory, 
Miss  Free,"  he  entreated  as  soon  as  he  saw  my  face. 
"We  want  to  keep  the  servants  out  of  this  much  as 
we  can,  you  know !" 

"All  right,  Mr.  Pegg,"  I  agreed,  for  this  was  my 
own  thought.  "All  right.  But  if  you  allow  the  situa- 
tion to  continue  you  will  have  a  hard  time  in  doing 
that!" 


240  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Accordingly  we  repaired  down  the  corridor  to  a  little 
glass  room  full  of  plants,  where  we  could  talk  in 
seclusion.  Mr.  Pegg,  as  usual,  chewed  upon  an  un- 
lighted  cigar  and  looked  at  me  thoughtfully  over  the 
top  of  it,  his  shrewd  eyes  half  closed. 

"You've  got  awfully  pretty  hair,  Miss  Free,"  said 
he  unexpectedly.  "I'm  glad  you've  took  back  to  them 
curls  again." 

"Now  see  here,  Mr.  Pegg,"  I  said  severely,  not  to 
be  diverted  by  any  frivolous  remarks.  "Now  see  here, 
Mr.  Pegg,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  outrageous  per- 
formance?" 

"When  I  was  a  cattleman,"  said  Mr.  Pegg,  looking 
at  the  ornate  ceiling,  "we  used  to  lock  'em  in  a  corral 
until  they  cooled  off  a  little." 

"What— who?"  I  demanded. 

"The  ones  we  was  breaking,"  he  informed  me.  Then 
his  manner  changed  and  he  brought  his  big  fist  down 
on  his  knee  with  a  thump.  "Now,  my  dear  lady,"  he 
said  firmly,  "I  know  what  I'm  doing.  Why,  I  had 
to  keep  her  on  the  ranch,  watched  like  a  hawk — and 
simply  because  she  kept  thinking  she  was  in  love  with 
some  undesirable  or  other.  I've  seen  her  do  this  be- 
fore. So  I'm  just  going  to  detain  her  where  she'll 
be  safe  until  she  comes  to  her  senses." 

"Mr.  Pegg,  you  are  taking  the  wrong  track  with 
Peaches  this  time!"  I  warned  him.  "You  can't  play 
the  Roman  father  with  your  child  and  marry  her  out 
of  hand — you  cannot!  You  engaged  me  as  a  social 
mentor  and  I  would  be  doing  less  than  my  duty  if  I 
didn't  inform  you  that  this  sort  of  thing  is  no  longer 
being  done  in  the  best  families !" 

"Say !"  remarked  Mr.  Pegg,  removing  the  cigar  and 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 


staring  at  me.  "Are  you  trying  to  be  humorous,  or 
what?'-' 

"I  assure  you  I  am  far  from  any  such  idea!"  I 
replied  with  hauteur.  "I  merely  affirm  that  you  can- 
not, even  legally,  keep  an  adult  female  child  imprisoned 
against  her  will  and  then  marry  her  off  to  —  to  a 
swindler  !" 

"A  swindler!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pegg.  "Oh,  come 
now,  Miss  Free  —  smuggling  in  that  picture  wasn't 
Mark's  fault.  You  can't  say  he  did  it  —  because  you 
don't  know  it.  Why,  you  and  he  have  always  been 
good  friends;  you're  not  going  back  on  him  now? 
Peaches  is  just  a  kid.  By  the  end  of  the  week  she 
will  have  changed  her  mind  again.  Good  heavens, 
look  at  the  fix  it  would  put  us  in  if  she  insisted  on 
breaking  her  engagement  now!  The  invitations  out, 
the  presents  coming  in  —  trousseau  bought!  We'd  be 
the  laughingstock  of  the  country.  Not  that  I'd  give  a 
—  cuss  —  if  it  wasn't  that  I  know  Alicia.  She'd  up  and 
go  back  to  him  when  it  was  all  thoroughly  broken  off. 
You  see  that  what  she  needs  is  the  high  hand.  I've 
had  to  use  it  before." 

"Mr.  Pegg,"  said  I,  "you  are  mistaken.  What  is 
worse,  you  are  a  cave  man!  I  am  convinced  Peaches 
really  is  in  love  with  Sandro  di  Monteventi  and  that 
you  will  break  her  heart  if  you  persist  in  your  heroic 
attitude.  I  beg  you  will  desist." 

"Nothing  doing!"  said  Mr.  Pegg,  rising  and  light- 
ing the  cigar  —  a  sign  that  the  interview  was  closed. 
"I'm  not  in  a  desisting  mood.  I  may  as  well  add  that 
I  am  wis'e  to  the  fact  that  she's  been  mooning  round 
after  that  fellow  ever  since  she  came  into  this  house. 
Kimball's  Commercial  Arithmetic,  indeed!" 

"I  don't  know  to  what  you  refer,  I  assure  you!"  I 


242  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

said  stiffly.  "And  I  insist  upon  at  least  having  a  key 
to  our  rooms." 

"Will  you  give  me  your  word  of  honor  not  to  use 
that  key  to  let  her  out  with?"  asked  my  employer 
doubtfully. 

"Certainly,  if  you  wish,"  I  replied  promptly.  "You 
may  have  my  word  for  that !" 

"Well,  here  you  are,  then,"  he  answered,  taking  a 
key  from  a  great  cluster  on  his  ring.  "You'll  keep 
the  letter  of  your  word,  I  know,  no  matter  how  uneasy 
the  spirit  gets.  And  now  I  must  mosey  along.  Mark 
and  I  have  to  run  up  to  town  on  business,  and  he 
wants  to  see  the  family-doctor  about  his  eye — he  ran 
into  his  bedpost  in  the  dark  last  night,  and  maybe  it's 
just  as  well  to  keep  Peaches  from  seeing  him  wearing 
that  beauty  spot." 

With  which  intelligent  and  discerning  remark  Mr. 
Pegg  left  me  to  my  own  devices,  and  of  course  I 
promptly  returned  to  my  apartment  and  the  waiting 
Peaches,  who  greeted  my  entrance  the  more  eagerly 
when  she  observed  I  let  myself  in  with  a  key. 

"You  wonder !"  cried  she,  embracing  me  with  a  look 
of  rapture.  "So  he  gave  in  to  you — you  enchantress !" 

"He  did  not!"  I  said  dryly.  "He  put  me  on  my 
honor  not  to  let  you  have  this  key,  and  my  honor  is 
sacred,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  it  that  way!" 

"Free — you  beast!"  cried  Peaches.  "Give  it  to  me. 
Don't  be  absurd !" 

"Keeping  one's  freely  given  word  is  never  absurd," 
I  observed.  "Besides,  if  I  were  to  break  it  and  let 
you  walk  out,  do  you  think  for  one  minute  that  the 
servants  would  let  you  get  away  without  protest?  Or 
without  notifying  your  father  by  telephone?  It  is 
you  who  are  absurd!" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  243 

"That's  so!"  said  Peaches,  suddenly  weary.  "Oh, 
Free — you  think  it  out!  Help  me,  I  am  so  tired." 

"Lack  of  sleep,"  I  pronounced.  "And  I'll  wager 
you  have  eaten  nothing.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to 
have  a  nice  hot  luncheon  sent  upstairs — I  presume  your 
father's  instructions  permit  the  service  of  food.  And 
then  you  must  get  a  few  hours  of  complete  rest  while 
I  take  a  stroll  in  the  fresh  air  and  perfect  some  course 
of  action." 

"Then  you  will  help  me?"  said  Peaches  eagerly. 

It  was  really  pathetic  to  see  her  so  comparatively 
tired  and  helpless.  She  was  never  more  than  com- 
paratively so,  I  may  state.  However,  my  compassion 
for  her  was  not  lessened  by  this  fact. 

"Of  course  I  am  going  to  help  you,"  I  declared. 
"That  any  mere  man  should  attempt  a  performance  of 
this  kind  outside  of  Bolshevik  Russia  is  too  outrageous 
to  be  endured.  But  first  take  some  hot  soup  and  a  nap. 
I  will  have  a  plan  when  you  wake  up,  I  feel  sure." 

Meekly  as  a  little  girl  she  submitted  to  my  ministra- 
tions, hot  broth  and  all.  And  when  at  length  she  lay 
sleeping  amidst  the  golden  glory  of  her  loosened  hair, 
her  face  like  a  pale  sage  lily  in  its  midst,  I  stole  down- 
stairs, first  faithfully  locking  the  door  behind  me  and 
pocketing  the  key. 

The  garden  between  walls  was  filled  with  the  roseate 
glow  of  sunset  as  I  stepped  forth  into  it,  and  the  night 
promised  fair.  The  earth  was  damp  and  fragrant 
from  the  April  storm  of  the  night  before,  and  the  new 
buds  seemed  to  have  doubled  their  endeavor  to  make 
the  world  green  overnight.  On  the  edges  of  the  paths 
the  frail  hothouse-born  tulips  lay  beaten  into  the  earth. 
But  in  the  meadow  toward  the  river  the  wild  crocuses 


244  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

marched  bravely.  Robins  were  warbling  their  mellow 
sunset  note,  and  the  world  seemed  sweetly  peaceful  and 
greatly  at  variance  with  my  mood. 

With  my  mind  continually  revolving  the  problem 
at  hand  I  walked  about  the  bordered  barren  beds  with 
a  step  that  was  listless  enough  in  good  sooth,  pausing 
now  and  again  to  glance  up  at  the  walls  of  the  fine 
dwelling,  which  was  now  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
a  prison.  And  after  a  few  turns  I  began  to  realize 
that  my  attention  was  turning  more  and  more  fre- 
quently to  the  window  that  had  been  Sandro's  and 
to  the  problem  of  his  escape. 

That  he  had  come  out  by  the  window  upon  the  first 
occasion  of  my  discovering  him  in  the  library,  and 
simply  let  himself  in  at  the  casement  door,  was  plain 
enough,  leaving  his  door  locked  from  the  inside  to 
avoid  invasion  by  the  other  servants;  indeed  it  had 
developed  that  it  had  been  his  habit  to  keep  his  door 
locked  during  the  entire  period  of  his  employment  in 
the  house.  But  how  had  he  got  there?  That  was 
the  question.  So  far  as  one  could  see  there  was 
absolutely  no  means  of  reaching  the  ground  from  that 
third  story,  unless  one  excepted  a  frail  and  narrow 
wooden  lattice  intended  for  the  encouragement  of 
vines,  which  extended  upward  to  the  level  of  the  higher 
windows. 

Obeying  an  impulse  I  went  over  and  made  examina- 
tion of  this  lattice,  and  the  riddle  was  a  riddle  no 
longer. 

"I  wonder,  I  wonder!"  I  said  aloud. 

"I  often  have,  myself !"  agreed  a  cheerful  voice  be- 
hind me. 

With  a  guilty  start  T  turned  about,  and  there,  of  all 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  24,5 

people  on  earth,  was  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  big  nose 
and  all,  smiling  at  me  in  his  familiar,  friendly  manner. 

"Richard!"  I  cried  warmly.  "What  brought  you 
here?" 

"I — say,  Aunt  Mary,  I  had  to  come,  that  was  all," 
he  said  with  troubled  eyes.  "It's  Peaches.  You  know 
how  I  feel  about  her — how  I  have  felt  all  along.  I 
had  to  see  her.  It  was  as  if  she  needed  me.  Just  a 
fool  hunch.  But  I  came.  I  couldn't  help  it — you 
understand  ?" 

"Understand?"  I  cried.  "Bless  the  boy,  I  do!" 
Then  a  way  out  of  our  situation  began  to  make  itself 
clear  in  my  brain  and  I  seized  him  by  the  arm,  dragging 
him  to  a  bench  out  of  general  sight  from  the  house 
and  making  him  sit  beside  me,  greatly  to  his  bewilder- 
ment. 

"Richard,"  I  said  solemnly,  "have  you  been  at  the 
house  yet?" 

"Why,  no !"  said  he.  "I  came  right  into  the  garden 
when  I  saw  you  from  the  drive." 

"Does  anybody  know  you  are  coming?" 

"Not  a  soul !"  declared  Dicky.  "Why  all  this  mys- 
tery?" 

"Listen!"  I  said  rapidly.  "Something  awful  has 
happened.  Peaches  is  a  prisoner.  Your  intuition  was 
right.  She — we  need  your  help,  and  need  it  badly." 

"Is  she  hurt?"  he  asked.  "A  prisoner?  What  in 
the  name " 

"I  want  you  to  get  a  big  powerful  automobile  and 
have  it  at  the  entrance  of  the  park  at  twelve  o'clock 
to-night.  As  soon  as  you  arrive,  park  your  car,  and 
come  to  the  foot  of  that  trellis  over  there.  When  you 
get  there  give  the  whistle  you  used  to  call  Peaches 


246  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

with.  If  you  get  an  answer,  wait  for  us.  If  after  half 
an  hour  you  don't  hear  anything,  call  me  on  the  tele- 
phone first  thing  in  the  morning.  Is  that  clear?" 

"Yes— but  Great  Scott!    What's  wrong?" 

"Never  you  mind,  except  that  something  is  very 
wrong  here.  Markheim  is  an  unspeakable  beast,  and 
Mr.  Pegg  is  trying  to  force  Peaches  into  going  through 
with  the  marriage  in  spite  of  what  she  has  found  out. 
He  has  locked  her  in  her  room,  which  opens  into  mine." 

"Well,  why  not  unlock  her,  then?"  he  asked  with 
stupid  masculine  simplicity.  "Haven't  you  got  a  key?" 

"I  have,"  I  said.  "But  I  have  given  him  my  word 
not  to  unlock  it  to  let  her  out!" 

"But  you'll  break  your  word!"  he  said  with  a  satis- 
fied grin. 

"Not  at  all!"  I  disclaimed  the  suggestion.  "Not 
at  all.  However,  I  made  no  promise  in  regard  to 
the  window.  And  with  your  assistance " 

"I  get  you!"  cried  Dicky,  springing  to  his  feet. 
"Twelve  sharp  to-night  it  is.  And  I'd  better  be  off 
now  before  the  old  boys  get  back  from  town  and  spot 
me — eh,  what?" 

"Yes,"  I  agreed. 

Then  I  hesitated.  Should  I  tell  him  of  the  duke? 
Was  it  possible  that  he  had  not  seen  the  afternoon 
papers?  Evidently  so,  since  he  had  not  commented 
upon  the  robbery.  Assuredly  they  had  escaped  his 
notice.  And  why  tell  the  poor  lovesick  boy  about 
Alicia's  part  in  it?  I  had  a  feeling  that  he  would  be 
even  more  effective  in  assisting  us  if  he  did  not  know 
until  we  were  well  on  our  way  that  night.  So  I 
merely  repeated  my  instructions  and  hurried  from  him 
to  impart  the  glad  tidings  to  my  charge  and  then  to 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  247 

secure  my  knitting,  in  order  that  I  might  be  flaunting 
that  badge  of  womanly  innocence  in  the  drawing- 
room  when  those  wretched  cave  men,  Markheim  and 
Mr.  Pegg,  came  down  dressed  for  dinner. 


XVI 

MY  dear  father  used  to  say  that  the  test  of  good 
breeding  lay  in  the  ability  to  maintain  the  social  ameni- 
ties toward  some  one  who  had  wronged  you.  Kipling, 
I  think  it  is,  cites  the  instance  of  an  Englishman  who 
continued  to  dress  for  dinner  alone  in  the  jungle,  as 
a  perfect  example  of  breeding.  But  then,  Kipling  had 
only  the  Englishman's  word  for  it,  because  if  he  were 
alone  when  he  dressed,  which  seems  probable — indeed 
is  so  stated — how  could  any  one  have  seen  him? 
Whereas  I  have  watched  my  dear  father  turn  the  other 
cheek  to  the  barber  who  used  to  visit  our  establishment 
weekly,  when  one  cheek  had  been  badly  scraped,  and 
not  utter  anything  stronger  than  an  inquiry  about  the 
man's  health! 

And  the  art  of  behaving  naturally,  yet  not  too  nat- 
urally, if  you  understand  me,  through  the  routine  of 
living  under  trying  domestic  conditions,  certainly  ap- 
pears to  come  more  easily  to  persons  whose  traditional 
training  has  been  in  the  line  of  self-restraint  rather 
than  that  of  self-expression ;  in  other  words,  to  those  of 
aristocratic  forbears.  Perhaps  that  is  why  the  purest 
aristocracy  so  seldom  attains  anything  except  good 
manners.  But  I  digress.  My  intent  was  merely  to 
make  a  passing  philosophic  comment  upon  the  dinner 
party  of  three — Mr.  Markheim,  Mr.  Pegg  and  myself 
• — which  was  held  that  evening  at  the  villa. 

For  though  no  one  could  deny  Mr.  Pegg's  sterling 
worth  there  were  times  when  his,  as  it  were,  silver 

248 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  249 

needed  repolishing.  And  this  was  such  a  time.  As  for 
Sebastian  Markheim,  for  all  his  wealth,  the  veneer  of 
culture,  which  had  never  been  much  more  than  tailor- 
deep,  now  showed  the  common  clay  beneath  all  too 
plainly;  and  the  bandage  which  his  New  York  physi- 
cian had  arranged  over  one  eye  did  nothing  to  make 
his  behavior  more  becoming.  Whereas  on  the  other 
hand  I  was  my  own  cheery,  chatty  self,  only  more  so, 
if  possible,  entertaining  both  gentlemen  with  a  pleasant 
account  of  a  railroad  accident  of  which  I  had  read 
that  day,  and  an  explanation  of  the  main  differences 
between  knitting  and  crochet  work. 

However,  they  were  not  very  responsive,  proving 
conclusively  my  dear  father's  theory.  In  point  of 
fact  they  were  both  so  uncommunicative  that  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  exercise  considerable  tact  and 
ingenuity  before  I  could  get  out  of  them  the  fact  that 
Sandro  di  Monteventi  was  still  at  large,  though  he  had 
been  traced  as  far  as  New  York  City. 

Indeed  I  cannot  imagine  why  these  two  gentlemen 
should  have  been  suspicious  of  my  trustworthiness,  yet 
their  reticence  could  have  no  other  implication.  How- 
ever, when  I  made  quite  sure  that  no  further  informa- 
tion was  to  be  had  out  of  them  I  continued  to  be  quite 
as  delightful  as  before,  even  insisting  upon  serving 
their  after-dinner  coffee  with  my  own  hands  as  soon  as 
the  footman  had  carried  it  into  the  library  for  us. 

I  confess  that  my  solicitation  about  the  serving  of 
this  was  not  wholly  disinterested,  inasmuch  as  I  ad- 
ministered a  small  dose  of  veronal  in  each  cup — a  mere 
five  grains  to  insure  their  sleeping — and  sleeping  early. 
And  in  truth  my  dear  father  never  approved  the  tak- 
ing of  coffee  in  the  evening,  and  I  knew  that  neither 
of  these  men  had  had  sufficient  sleep  during  the  past 


250  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

forty-eight  hours.  Also,  I  did  not  wish  my  project  to 
fail  through  any  oversight  on  my  part.  Moreover, 
neither  being  a  good  judge  of  coffee,  they  made  no 
comment  on  the  flavor. 

Thus  it  was  that  when,  shortly  after  nine  o'clock, 
first  one  and  then  the  other  excused  himself  and  went 
off  to  bed,  I  did  not  seek  to  detain  either,  but  re- 
mained myself  in  the  library  for  half  an  hour,  osten- 
sibly engaged  in  the  perusal  of  a  volume  of  Carlyle's 
French  Revolution  but  in  reality  with  one  eye  fixed 
upon  the  clock,  and  my  attention  absorbed  with  wait- 
ing for  the  moment  when  I  might  retire  to  my  chamber 
without  apparent  undue  haste. 

At  length  the  clock  struck  ten,  having  been  con- 
siderably longer  than  its  usual  time  in  getting  round 
to  it,  or  so  I  fancied,  and  I  rose  in  a  leisurely  fashion, 
putting  away  my  book  and  ringing  for  the  footman. 
When  he  appeared  I  bade  him  a  cheerful  good  night 
and  told  him  to  put  out  the  lights.  Then  I  made  my 
way  upstairs  to  Peaches,  my  heart  beating  with  excite- 
ment but  my  head  quite  cool  and  collected  as  I  ad- 
mitted myself  to  our,  as  it  were,  joint  prison. 

I  found  the  dear  girl  already  dressed  in  a  dark 
suit  and  small  hat,  her  face  still  pale,  though  her 
sleep  had  greatly  refreshed  her  and  her  eyes  were 
once  more  the  great  fiery  cat  eyes  of  amber  that  I  loved 
to  watch. 

"Free,"  she  began  at  once,  "is  there  any  news  of 
him?  Have  they  caught  him?" 

"Not  yet,"  I  replied,  "but  he's  in  New  York  some- 
where— at  least  that's  what  they  think.  Don't  for- 
get to  take  your  toothbrush." 

"And  you  are  sure  that  Dicky  understands  what 
to  do?" 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  251 

"Of  course!"  I  replied,  going  to  my  top  bureau 
drawer  and  regarding  the  contents  critically.  "Now 
let  me  see  what  I  shall  take." 

"I  guess  father  will  never  forgive  as,"  remarked 
Peaches  dolefully.  "But  it  seems  a  person  never  can 
do  what  they  think  right  without  getting  in  wrong 
with  some  one." 

"I  shall  take  my  father's  chronometer,"  I  mused  half 
aloud,  "smelling  salts  and  a  pack  of  cards,  for  solitaire. 
Also  my  small  folding  check  book.  These,  together 
with  my  toothbrush  and  clean  handkerchief,  will  just 
about  fill  my  reticule." 

I  was  putting  these  articles  into  their  receptacle  as 
I  talked,  but  my  attention  was  fixed  upon  Alicia's  face. 
She  looked  as  if  she  were  seeing  a  vision;  never  have 
I  beheld  such  an  expression  of  anxious  beatitude,  if 
one  may  say  so,  on  any  human  countenance  either 
before  or  since.  It  was  hardly  wholesome. 

"Did  you  put  on  low-heeled  shoes?"  I  asked  prac- 
tically. Peaches  came  to  with  a  start. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "Free,  do  they  let  you  get  mar- 
ried in  jail  ?" 

"They  send  you  there  for  getting  married  too  often," 
I  replied.  "Now  keep  your  mind  on  the  excitement 
of  the  moment  and  hook  up  my  shirt  waist  for  me, 
there's  a  good  girl." 

"A  shirt  waist  that  hooks  up  the  back  is  a  blouse, 
Free,"  she  replied,  smiling  wanly.  "How  am  I  ever 
going  to  make  your  sense  of  luxury  as  strong  as  your 
pocket-book  ?" 

"This  blouse  by  any  other  name  was  just  as  dear," 
I  replied. 

And  so  with  light  chaffing  we  made  the  interval  of 
our  preparation  and  waiting  durable  to  each  other; 


252  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

and  at  length  I  sat  down  by  the  opened,  darkened 
window  for  the  third  night  in  succession,  to  listen  for 
Richard,  the  chauffeur,  to  signal.  One  by  one  the 
other  lights  in  the  house  were  extinguished  and 
gradually  complete  silence  reigned  over  the  mas- 
sive pile  of  what  had  but  a  brief  three  days  ago  been 
Peaches'  future  home,  and  which  we  were  about  to 
forswear  forever  in  the  cause  of  love  and  spiritual 
freedom,  not  to  mention  actual  physical  freedom.  At 
five  minutes  of  the  hour  Peaches  broke  the  silence  with 
an  impatient  whisper. 

"All  this  stage  stuff  is  the  greatest  bunk!"  she  ex- 
claimed under  her  breath.  "I  wish  to  goodness  you'd 
open  the  door  and  let  us  walk  downstairs  like  rational 
human  beings !" 

"And  break  a  Talbot's  word?"  I  retorted.  "Never! 
What  I  promise  your  dear  father  I  keep  my  word 
about." 

"Freedom  Talbot,  I  sometimes  think  you  are  stuck 
on  pa,"  commented  Peaches  reflectively. 

And  then,  before  I  was  obliged  to  reply  to  this 
most  inconsiderate  comment  and  indefensible  charge, 
a  low  whistle  sounded  from  the  garden,  the  old  familiar 
whistle  with  which  I  had  heard  Peaches  signal  to 
Richard,  the  chauffeur,  a  thousand  times.  At  once 
she  was  upon  her  feet,  her  body  tense,  her  foplish  re- 
mark mercifully  forgotten  as  she  responded.  Three 
liquid  notes,  soft  yet  clear.  Then  silence. 

"Now  for  it!"  I  whispered.  "You  follow  me — I 
know  the  way !"  And  carrying  my  shoes  in  my  hand 
I  stepped  forth  across  that  window  sill,  which  must, 
so  I  believe,  bear  about  it  the  odor  of  romance  for- 
evermore. 

I  am  pained  to  relate  that  the  first  thing  Peaches 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  253 

did  upon  reaching  the  ground  was  to  embrace  Dick 
Talbot  and  kiss  him  upon  both  cheeks.  But  such  is 
the  distressing  truth,  inappropriate  as  the  action  was 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  she  was  escaping  from  one 
fiance  in  order  to  go  in  search  of  another,  and  that 
Dick  was  neither  of  them.  But  he  did  not  seem  to 
object  in  the  least,  though  the  moment  she  freed  him 
he  very  properly  turned  his  attention  to  helping  me 
on  with  my  shoes. 

"All  set,  Aunt  Mary!"  he  whispered  then.  "This 
way,  please,  and  watch  your  step  in  case  the  enemy 
sets  up  a  barrage!" 

In  silence  we  followed  him  through  the  garden  and 
out  across  the  meadow,  keeping  in  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  and  hedges  whenever  possible,  and  trampling  the 
brave  little  white  crocuses  underfoot.  At  length  we 
reached  the  fence  which  separated  the  grounds  from 
the  highroad,  and  as  it  was  fortunately  not  very  high 
he  helped  us  over  without  difficulty,  the  main  gates  at 
the  lodge  being,  as  he  informed  us,  locked  for  the  night. 

Drawn  close  to  the  fence  was  a  powerful  car  with 
the  engine  running  softly.  Richard  assisted  me  into 
the  rear  seat  and  Peaches  sprang  up  beside  him  in 
front ;  there  was  a  grinding  sound  from  the  creature's 
innards  and  we  slid  smoothly  out  into  the  open  road. 

The  river  road  from  Ossining  to  New  York  is  one 
of  surpassing  beauty,  even  at  night,  when  the  smooth 
winding  ribbon  of  it  is  practically  without  traffic. 
But  I  was  not  much  concerned  with  its  loveliness,  as 
the  night  was  too  dark,  for  one  thing,  to  permit  more 
than  a  speculation  as  to  what  lay  behind  the  hedges 
and  rows  of  trees  with  which  it  is  lined,  and  the  Hud- 
son lay  hidden  in  the  black  depth  of  its  own  valley  save 
when  a  moving  light  or  two  from  a  nocturnal  vessel 


254.  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

betrayed  its  whereabouts.  Overhanging  clouds  now 
threatened  rain,  and  a  mist  crept  up  from  the  broad 
stream,  obscuring  the  lamps  and  blurring  the  occasional 
lighted  window  by  our  way.  At  any  moment  I  ex- 
pected that,  as  The  Duchess  would  say,  the  heaven 
would  open  to  emit  a  torrential  storm;  and  I  wished 
heartily  that  I  had  worn  my  other  hat. 

Furthermore,  if  I  had  been  able  to  see  anything  of 
the  landscape  as  we  passed  I  could  not  have  focussed 
much  attention  upon  it  because  of  the  terrific  rate  of 
speed  at  which  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  had  determined 
to  drive.  At  each  and  every  curve  I  anticipated  an 
accident  of  some  sort — a  collision  with  some  unfortun- 
ate night  traveler,  a  possibly  fatal  encounter  with  a 
train  or  trolley  car.  But  miraculously  nothing  of  the 
kind  happened.  I  made  one  or  two  futile  attempts  to 
dissuade  him  from  his  reckless  course,  inasmuch  as  the 
discovery  of  our  flight  was  extremely  unlikely  to  occur 
for  many  hours  to  come.  My  words  were  merely 
blown  back  into  my  face,  and  solicitude  for  my  hat 
and  feathers  at  length  caused  me  to  relinquish  my 
efforts  and  sit  dumbly  clinging  to  the  seat  with  one 
hand  and  to  my  headgear  with  the  other.  I  assume 
that  he  was  driving  as  much  from  the  stress  of  his 
emotions  as  by  reason  of  Peaches'  urging  him  to  haste, 
but  I  could  not  help  reflecting,  sorry  as  I  was  for  the 
young  man's  hopeless  passion,  that  love  is  a  selfish 
thing — a  remark  which  has  doubtless  been  made  by 
earlier  writers. 

I  could  not  hear  a  word  of  what  conversation  was 
going  on  in  the  front  seat,  but  there  seemed  to  be  little 
enough  of  it,  and  all  of  Dick's  energies  were  obviously 
bent  on  driving — a  fact  for  which  I  dumbly  thanked 
the  Almighty,  and  it  was  not  until  almost  an  hour 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 255 

later,  when  the  outskirts  of  the  city  had  been  reached 
and  our  driver  drew  up  at  the  curb  before  a  species  of 
necturnal  dairy,  or  all-night  lunch, '  as  I  believe  such 
places  are  called,  that  we  had  anv  real  conversation 
regarding  further  plans. 

Richard  insisted  that  we  get  down  from  the  machine 
and  enter  the  humble  eating  establishment,  whose  win- 
dow displayed  nothing  more  inviting  than  a  few  dozen 
oranges,  which  my  practiced  eye  recognized  as  inferior 
sweated  Southern  fruit,  and  a  black  cat,  the  latter 
sound  asleep. 

But  once  entering  its  tiled  interior,  which  made  me 
oddly  uncomfortable,  conveying  as  it  did  a  sense  of 
being  in  a  most  dreadfully  public  bathroom,  the  re- 
freshing odor  of  coffee  and  hot  cakes  revived  our  more 
material  senses,  and  over  a  generous  supply  of  both 
we  told  Dick  the  whole  story,  beginning  with  the  mo- 
ment of  our  arrival  in  the  East  up  to  the  point  of  the 
aforementioned  pancakes  and  coffee. 

While  Peaches  was  telling  him  about  the  duke  and 
how  she  loved  him,  young  Talbot  could  not  endure 
to  look  at  her — a  fact  of  which  she  appeared  oblivious, 
so  wrapped  was  she  in  her  recital.  And  it  was  only 
when  she  had  quite  finished  and  was  waiting  for 
him  to  speak  that  he  mastered  his  emotions  sufficiently 
to  look  at  her  with  his  honest,  suffering  eyes. 

"So  he  is  alive?"  he  said  simply.  "And,  of  course, 
you  have  to  go  to  him,  old  girl.  There  is  something 
wrong  with  this  crook  idea.  That  man  is  not  a  crook." 

"Thanks,  Dicky!"  said  Peaches,  her  eyes  filling  as 
she  covered  his  hand  with  hers  for  an  instant.  "I 
know  there  isn't  any  reason  to  believe  in  him — but  I 
do,  just  the  same." 

"But  there  is  a  reason,"  said  Dick  unexpectedly. 


256  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Look  here,  Peaches,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  h'ave  told 
you  this  when  I  first  came  back.  But  I  didn't  first  off, 
because  I  found  you  engaged  to  another  man  and  ap- 
parently happy.  I  didn't  want  to  go  raking  over  old 
wounds.  So  I  didn't  even  speak  of  him  except  to  say 
that  I'd  heard  he  was  killed  in  a  gallant  action — and  I 
never  even  said  that  much  until  you  mentioned  it  first 
— do  you  remember?" 

"Yes,"  she  nodded.    "Go  on,  Dicky!" 

"But  I'd  seen  him  while  I  was  over  there,"  he  said. 
"I — well,  it  was  rather  by  accident  but  I  happened 
to  save  his  life.  Oh,  not  the  last  time !  Up  to  to-night 
I  thought  he  was  dead,  the  same  as  you  did.  But 
before  that.  It  was  the  time  I  got  the  Italian 
medal " 

"So  that  was  why  you  wouldn't  talk  about  it!"  I 
ejaculated.  But  neither  paid  any  attention  to  me. 

"He  asked  a  lot  about  you,"  Dicky  went  on.  "And 
I  told  him  all  I  could.  About  the  ranch,  and  what 
you  and  Miss  Freedom  were  doing.  He  was  just 
crazy  to  hear.  But  he  didn't  want  me  to  tell  you  about 
him.  'I'm  not  fit  for  her,  Dick,'  he  says  to  me.  We 
was  both  getting  over  scalp  wounds  then  and  used  to 
sit  out  in  front  of  the  hut  and  talk  a  lot.  'I  got  out  of 
her  life  for  her  own  good,'  he  says.  'And  if  it  ever 
comes  natural  tell  her  I  didn't  intend  to  kill  the  chap 
at  the  railway  station — it  was  in  self -defense.'  That's 
what  he  told  me.  And  then  he  tried  to  give  me  a 
ring  he  had,  because  of  me  having  the  luck  to  save  him, 
see?  But  I  wouldn't  take  it.  So  he  give  me  his  ad- 
dress in  case  I  ever  needed  anything." 

"His  address?"  said  Peaches  chokingly.  "Why, 
Monteventi  is  his  address,  surely?" 

"Yeh — but  he  give  me  another  one  besides,"  said 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  257 

Dick.  "Though,  of  course,  I  heard  after  that  he  had 
gone  West,  and  so  I  kind  of  forgot  about  it." 

"If  he  had  another  address  it  must  have  been  where 
he  could  be  reached  in  an  emergency!"  cried  Peaches. 
"Can't  you  remember  it,  Dicky?  Oh,  think!  Please 
try  to  remember  it!" 

"I  guess  maybe  I  got  it  on  me,"  said  he  with  a 
curious  shyness.  "I — wrote  it  on  the  back  of  your  pic- 
ture. I — I  carried  it  along  through  the  war.  I  might 
have  it  now,  at  that." 

From  the  inside  of  his  coat  he  took  a  thin  wallet, 
through  which  he  pretended  to  search  while  we  watched 
breathlessly.  And  there,  as  I  had  anticipated,  was 
the  portrait  of  Alicia— Alicia  at  sixteen  with  her  heavy 
hair  in  braids  over  either  shoulder  and  a  Mexican 
sombrero  shading  her  laughing  eyes.  He  turned  it 
over  and  she  gave  a  little  cry  as  she  recognized  her 
lover's  name — followed  by  an  address  in  Hoboken! 

We  exchanged  a  look  of  wonder. 

"By  gosh,  I'll  bet  a  dollar  that's  where  he  is  to- 
night!" exclaimed  Talbot.  "Not  a  very  tasty  neigh- 
borhood, but  just  the  kind  of  a  place  a  bird  like  him 
would  fly  to  for  cover.  And  see  the  way  I  was  to 
address  him.  S.  M.,  care  of  Smith!  He  said  they 
forwarded  his  mail  for  him.  Peaches,  I'll  go  there 
for  you  the  minute  I  get  you  two  girls  safe  at  a  hotel !" 

"You  will  not!"  said  Peaches.  "Because  we  are 
going  with  you." 

"Oh,  come — that's  not  right!"  protested  Dick.  But 
nothing  would  dissuade  Peaches. 

"Well — we  may  need  some  money,"  said  he,  at 
length  consenting  to  the  mad  scheme.  "I've  a  few 
dollars,  but  eventually  we'll  have  to  get  some  more. 
Did  you  bring  any,  Peaches  ?" 


258  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Her  face  dropped  in  dismay. 

"I  never  thought  of  it!"  she  gasped.  "And  my 
purse  was  on  the  dressing  table  too !" 

"Never  mind!"  said  I,  plunging  my  hand  into  my 
reticule.  "I  have  brought  a  check  book  and  I  have  a 
lot  of  money  in  the  bank." 

With  which  I  drew  out — not  my  check  book  at  all, 
but  the  black  leather  wallet  which  Peaches  had  thrown 
into  the  pond  out  at  the  ranch,  and  which  I  had  sub- 
sequently rescued. 

For  a  moment  we  all  gazed  at  it  stupidly.  Then 
Peaches  recognized  it  and  snatched  it  from  the  table. 

"Sandy's  wallet!"  she  cried.  "Freedom  Talbot, 
where  did  you  get  this  thing?" 

"I — I  found  it  in  the  garden  out  at  home,"  I  stam- 
mered, blushing  violently,  "and  I  kept  it  in  case — that 
is,  I  thought  that  perhaps  sometime " 

"I  see!"  said  she  in  a  tone  which  led  me  greatly 
to  fear  that  she  did. 

"What  is  it?"  our  escort  now  wanted,  not  unnat- 
urally, to  know. 

"It's  something  of  his — the  duke's,"  I  said.  "Peaches 
has  had  it  for  years." 

"Give  us  a  look-see !"  asked  Dick,  stretching  out  his 
hand  for  it.  Rather  reluctantly  she  allowed  him  to 
take  it. 

"I  bet  there's  something  sewed  inside  that  lining!" 
he  commented  after  a  moment's  examination.  "Let's 
open  her  up !" 

"No!"  cried  Peaches,  snatching  it  back.  "If  there 
is  it's  none  of  our  business.  I'll  just  take  care  of  it, 
thanks!  And  now  about  money — our  not  having 
any  lets  us  out  of  the  hotel  plan,  Dick;  and  anyhow  if 
we  cash  a  check  we  can't  do  it  before  to-morrow.  In 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 359 

order  to  get  into  a  decent  hotel  without  any  bags 
we'd  have  to  prove  who  we  are,  and  then  pa  would 
spot  us  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"Besides  which,  if  Sandro  is  really  at  this  Hoboken 
address,  he  will  very  likely  be  gone  by  morning,"  I 
added;  "if  indeed  he  has  not  already  left." 

"You  said  it!"  cried  Peaches.  "Come  on,  let's  go! 
The  Lord  only  knows  when  that  ex-sheriff  of  a  parent 
of  mine  will  have  a  posse  on  my  trail !" 

We  acted  upon  this,  the  combined  wisdom  of  all 
three  of  us,  and  paying  our  modest  indebtedness  to 
the  midnight-luncheon  establishment,  betook  ourselves 
back  to  the  automobile  and  the  pursuit  of  our  quest. 

How  silent  are  the  busy  marts  of  Manhattan  in  the 
small  hours  of  the  night!  With  her  pearl-like  lamps 
the  only  sentinels  along  our  way,  we  sped  into  Broad- 
way and  thence  across  the  park  and  down  Fifth  Avenue 
almost  as  rapidly  as  we  had  proceeded  along  the  Albany 
highway  from  Ossining,  turning  west  at  some  side 
street  evidently  familiar  to  Richard,  the  chauffeur, 
since  the  days  of  his  debarkation,  and  sped  toward  a 
westbound  ferryboat. 

It  was  a  great  comfort  to  me  to  realize  that  the  city 
of  Hoboken  itself  would  not  be  wholly  unfamiliar 
to  him  either,  inasmuch  as  he  had  left  for  Europe 
from  that  port  as  a  soldier,  and  had  again  visited  it 
in  the  same  capacity  two  years  later  upon  his  return. 
Therefore,  he  could,  of  course,  be  relied  upon  to 
know  something  about  the  place,  and  just  how  unde- 
sirable he  considered  the  section  for  which  we  were 
headed  might  be.  It  did  not,  however,  occur  to  me 
to  question  him  on  this  point  until  the  lights  of  the 
opposite  shore  were  drawing  near.  We  had  remained 


260  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

seated  in  the  auto,  which  was  driven  bodily  upon  the 
lower  section  of  the  ferryboat. 

"Richard,"  I  said,  "do  you  consider  the  section  for 
which  we  are  Abound  a  residential  one?" 

"I  do  not!"  he  responded  promptly.  "I'll  say  the 
inhabitants  usually  make  about  a  week-end  of  it  before 
they  are  invited  to  Sing  Sing.  I  wish  I  had  thought 
to  bring  a  gun  along !" 

"If  a  revolver  will  do  as  well,"  said  I,  "I  have  one 
upon  my  person.  It  is  that  which  I  obtained  from 
that  gambling  creature  in  Monte  Carlo." 

"Good  girl,  Aunt  Mary!"  he  exclaimed.  "Slip  it 
to  me,  will  you  ?" 

"In  order  to  do  so  I  must  retire  to  the  ladies'  cabin," 
I  replied  with  dignity,  "inasmuch  as  it  is  attached 
to  my — my  garter." 

"Well,  if  you  aren't  a  caution  to  rattlesnakes!"  ex- 
claimed he.  "All  right,  sport,  only  hurry  up,  for 
we'll  be  landing  in  a  few  minutes  now." 

I  alighted  from  the  rear  of  the  machine  with  all 
possible  celerity  and  made  my  way  upstairs  to  the 
higher  deck  and  the  retreat  which  I  sought.  Putting 
the  firearm  into  my  reticule  I  was  about  to  descend 
when  the  sight  of  a  familiar  figure  standing  on  the 
front  deck  of  the  vessel,  his  face  sharply  outlined 
against  the  light,  arrested  my  action  and  my  attention. 

It  was  the  detective  named  Pedro — he  who  had  posed 
as  night  watchman  at  the  villa — and  he  was  standing 
right  where  he  could  not  fail  to  see  our  car  and  recog- 
nize its  occupants  the  moment  we  drove  out  to  land. 

It  was  an  emergency  and  I  steeled  myself  to  meet 
it  intelligently.  If  I  were  to  go  below  at  once  all  I 
could  accomplish  would  be  the  warning  of  my  compan- 
ions. Still,  what  better  course  offered?  None  that  I 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  261 

could  see  at  first.  Pedro  had  not  seen  me  as  yet,  but 
continued  to  stand  looking  out  toward  the  Jersey 
shore.  And  while  I  hesitated  as  to  what  I  should  do 
the  Divine  Providence  which  looks  after  lovers  put  a 
means  of  eluding  him  into  my  very  hands,  as  it  were. 

From  a  door  close  beside  me  and  which  was  marked 
"Private"  in  large  letters,  there  at  this  moment  emerged 
a  man  in  overalls.  The  door  swung  to  behind  him, 
locking  with  a  snap,  and  an  instant  later  he  discovered 
that  he  had  left  something  in  the  cabin  and  being  in  a 
great  hurry  swore  shockingly  as  he  fumbled  with  his 
keys,  for  he  was  obliged  to  unlock  the  door,  which 
fastened  with  a  spring  lock,  before  he  could  get  back 
into  the  place.  The  dock  was  very  close  now,  and 
the  bell  was  clanging  loudly.  In  another  moment  we 
would  have  touched.  The  mechanic's  haste  was  frantic, 
which,  of  course,  caused  him  some  further  delay,  but 
at  length  he  succeeded  in  opening  the  door  again.  On 
the  instant  finding  myself  unobserved  I  slid  about  a 
quarter  of  my  little  pack  of  playing  cards  into  the  jamb 
of  the  door.  They  were  just  of  a  sufficient  thickness 
to  allow  the  door  to  shut  without  permitting  it  to  lock. 
The  mechanic  having  found  what  he  wanted  came  out, 
swung  the  door,  as  he  supposed,  closed,  and  went  on 
his  way. 

Hardly  had  he  vanished  down  the  str.irs  when  Pedro 
saw  me  and  at  once  approached,  raising  his  hat  with  a 
sarcastic  politeness  that  thinly  veiled  a  sneer.  And 
as  he  came  I  knew  for  certain  that  he  was  the  man 
whom  it  had  twice  already  been  my  pleasure  to  foil. 
Nevertheless,  I  greeted  him  pleasantly  enough. 

"Ah — good  evening !"  said  I.  "You  are  looking  for 
Mr.  Markheim,  I  suppose?" 


262 IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

Well,  the  fellow  looked  a  good  deal  surprised  at 
that,  but  he  wouldn't  admit  it — not  he. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  he,  to  draw  me  out. 

"This  is  splendid!"  I  said  heartily.  "We  were 
afraid  our  telegram  hadn't  reached  you.  He's  just  in- 
side in  this  cabin.  Won't  you  go  in?" 

The  room  lighted  automatically  as  the  door  was 
pushed  inward.  He  entered,  I  pulled  out  the  cards 
and  slammed  the  door  behind  him  just  as  the  clamor  of 
our  arrival  at  the  hospitable  Hoboken  shores  drowned 
out  all  immediate  danger  of  his  cries  being  heard. 

But  I  ran  down  the  stairs  to  the  car  like — like 
the  very  deuce,  as  my  dear  father  used  to  say.  And 
climbing  into  my  place  I  leaned  over  and  slipped  the 
revolver  into  Dick's  pocket. 

"Drive  like  Sam  Hill!"  I  commanded  in  a  fierce 
undertone.  "I've  just  locked  Pedro  into  the  fireman's 
washroom  and  he's  not  going  to  like  it  very  much!" 


XVII 

I  MADE  this  remark  with  a  pleasant  smile  to  give  the 
appearance  of  passing  a  joke,  in  case  Pedro's  partner 
should  prove  to  be  on  board  and  watching  us.  Dicky 
smiled  back,  but  nevertheless  acted  upon  my  hint  with- 
out delay;  and  as  a  combined  result  of  our  smiling 
faces  the  gateman  grinned  as  well  and  permitted  our 
car  to  debark  first. 

The  delay  on  the  pier,  where  we  were  obliged  to  pro- 
ceed at  a  snail's  pace,  was  a  dreadful  strain.  Suppose 
that  Pedro's  cries  were  to  be  heard,  and,  rescued,  he 
bore  down  upon  us  ?  I  shuddered  at  the  thought.  But 
at  length  we  were  past  officialdom  and  speeding  up 
the  hill  and  into  the  city's  silent  and  deserted  ways. 
Dicky  turned  his  head  to  question  me,  almost  colliding 
with  a  lamp-post  by  so  doing,  but  his  usual  nonchalant 
skill  saving  us  by  a  hair — or  so  it  appeared  to  me. 

"Now  what  the  devil  did  you  say  you  did?"  he 
wanted  to  know. 

"Pedro — the  detective,"  I  said — "I  locked  him  up  on 
the  boat !"  I  repeated. 

"Good  heavens,  Freedom !    How  ?"  cried  Peaches. 

I  told  them  briefly.  Richard,  the  chauffeur,  gave 
a  long  whistle. 

"Then  it's  more  than  likely  we  are  headed  right!" 
said  he.  "Gosh  Almighty,  Aunt  Mary,  I  hope  I  never 
get  in  wrong  with  you !" 

"Why?"  I  demanded.  "I  simply  do  the  obvious 
thing  as  occasion  arises." 

263 


S64  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

"Well,  give  us  a  little  advance  notice  when  you 
are  going  to  pull  something  out  of  the  usual,"  he  re- 
plied cryptically,  and  turned  his  attention  back  to  the 
car — for  which  I  felt  profoundly  grateful — and  to 
scanning  the  corner  lamps  for  the  name  of  the  avenue 
for  which  we  were  seeking. 

Fortunately  the  streets  were  literally  deserted  ind 
so  we  escaped  notice.  If  any  one  had  followed  us 
from  the  ferry  he  would  have  been  visible  many  blocks 
away.  The  only  living  creature  we  passed  in  fifty 
squares  was  a  maraudering  cat  which  shot  across  our 
path  like  a  black  arrow. 

"Good  luck !"  commented  Peaches. 

But  the  remark  failed  to  reassure  me,  for  by  now 
we  had  discovered  and  turned  into  our  avenue,  and 
its  aspect  was  most  decidedly  not  residential.  In  point 
of  fact  it  could  hardly  be  said  to  contain  houses,  much 
less  anything  worthy  of  being  dignified  by  the  name  of 
residence.  It  was  quite  unlike  any  part  of  Boston 
with  which  I  was  acquainted,  and  I  did  not  fancy  its 
atmosphere,  which  was  redolent  of  gas,  to  say  the 
least.  Moreover,  it  was  not  at  all  a  suitable  place  for 
a  duke  to  live,  even  when  in  retirement  from  the 
police.  I  should  have  felt  something  on  upper  Fifth 
Avenue  much  more  fitting — say,  in  a  secret  chamber 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Plaza.  Or  in  the  half- 
ruinous  mansion  of  some  aristocrat  out  at,  let  us  say 
at  Hempstead,  which  I  understand  contains  many 
fine  old  estates. 

The  quarter  through  which  we  were  proceeding  was 
impossible — simply  impossible!  I  trust  that  there  is 
very  little  of  the  snob  in  me,  at  least  of  that  species 
of  snob  which  cannot  distinguish  between  genteel 
poverty  and  common  poverty.  Mere  shabbiness  is  no 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  265 

cause  for  losing  caste,  as  I  myself  know  full  well.  And 
so  I  would  have  said  nothing  to  a  shabby  neighbor- 
hood. But  this  was  not  even,  properly  speaking,  a 
neighborhood,  being  as  it  was,  chiefly  composed  of 
gas  tanks  which  towered  heavenward  in  shadowy  men- 
ace, of  warehouses  with  blank  faces,  and  unpleasant 
odors. 

Between  these  at  rare  intervals  were  sandwiched 
little  groups  of  houses — part  of  what  might  originally 
have  been  rather  a  fine  terrace.  Three-story  brick 
affairs,  they  were,  that  once  might  have  looked  out 
upon  the  river  before  their  giant  neighbors  had  risen 
to  obstruct  the  view.  They  stood  in  little  groups  of 
three  or  four,  huddled  together  and  squeezed  on  either 
hand  by  elbowing  dirty  lofts  or  other  commercial 
tramps  of  buildings.  Most  of  them  appeared  to  be 
used  for  the  storing  of  hides,  to  judge  from  the  refuse 
in  the  street  before  them;  some  had  been  ruined  by 
fire  without  being  demolished,  others  gaped  with  broken 
windows  behind  their  "For  Sale"  signs — drearily 
awaiting  purchasers  who  never  came. 

But  here  and  there  among  them  were  a  few  which 
gave  indication  that  human  beings  still  used  them  as 
habitations — a  dirty  window  curtain,  a  set  of  battered 
shades,  a  stoop  less  cluttered  than  those  of  the  neigh- 
bors. And  occasionally  a  dingy  notice  that  there  were 
furnished  rooms  to  be  had.  But  nowhere  any  light. 
It  was  like  a  city  of  the  dead, — or  like  a  town  long 
abandoned.  It  was  difficult  indeed  to  realize  that  on 
the  morrow — nay,  later  on  in  this  very  morning — 'the 
place  would  be  a  busy  waterfront. 

It  was  before  one  of  these  poor  houses  that  Richard, 
the  chauffeur,  at  length  came  to  a  halt ;  and  exception- 
ally moldy  and  uninviting  specimen  it  was,  with  the 


266  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

storage  terminal  of  some  exporting  company  on  the 
one  hand  of  it  and  a  string  of  unsavory-looking  lodg- 
ings upon  the  other.  The  number  for  which  we  were 
looking  was  discernible,  though  scarcely  legible  above 
its  clo'sed  storm  doors — Number  1162.  There  could 
be  no  mistake.  It  was  our  destination.  But  it  cer- 
tainly did  not  look  inviting,  from  cellar  to  attic 
the  shutters,  though  sagging  precariously  on  their 
hinges,  were  closed,  and  the  areaway  was  obstructed 
by  empty  crates,  evidently  refuse  from  its  business 
neighbor. 

"It  doesn't  look  as  if  a  soul  were  home,"  I  observed. 
"How  very  disappointing!" 

"Houses  that  refugees  are  hiding  in  don't  exactly 
open  up  like  hotels,"  observed  Dicky  dryly.  "The 
question  now  is,  how  do  we  get  invited  in  without 
bringing  a  lot  of  attention  on  ourselves?" 

"Well,  there's  no  use  sitting  here  discussing  such 
things !"  I  snapped,  taking  out  my  dear  father's  chron- 
ometer and  looking  at  it  under  the  light  of  the  nearest 
lamp.  "It  is  now  fifteen  minutes  of  three  o'clock.  I 
suggest  we  take  some  action.  We  can't  stay  here, 
that's  plain.  Listen  to  that  thunder,  will  you  ?  I  wish 
I  had  worn  my  other  hat!  I  just  knew  it  was  going 
to  rain !" 

"We  might  go  up  and  ring  the  bell,"  suggested 
Peaches,  climbing  to  the  sidewalk.  "That  hasn't  failed 
yet,  you  know." 

"Since  we  have  been  fools  enough  to  come  without 
any  definite  plan,"  agreed  Dick  Talbot,  "I  suppose  we 
may  as  well  act  as  if  it  were  an  ordinary  call.  But 
first  I'm  going  to  run  the  bus  round  the  corner  and 
park  it  out  of  sight.  They'll  be  more  apt  to  open  up." 

He  left  the  motor  running  and  assisted  me  to  alight 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  267 

and  then  drove  off  to  fulfil  this  plan,  returning  pres- 
ently on  foot,  whereat  we  ascended  the  broken  steps  to- 
gether, and  Richard  gave  the  old-fashioned  bell  knob 
a  vigorous  pull.  Faintly  from  below  came  the  sound 
of  it  in  due  time,  a  harsh  jangle  as  when  a  bell  clangs 
in  an  empty  echoing  room.  Then  he  waited,  but  no 
other  sound  broke  the  stillness. 

'Try  again,"  said  Peaches  after  several  minutes  had 
elapsed. 

And  there  really  being  nothing  else  to  do,  Dicky 
obeyed,  with  no  better  result.  Once  the  faint  echoes 
of  its  ringing  had  died  away  within  the  building  all 
was  as  silent  as  the  tomb.  A  cat  wailed  suddenly 
from  some  hidden  fence,  causing  us  to  start,  but  that 
was  all. 

"There  may  be  some  other  way  in,"  said  Richard  in 
a  low  voice.  "Though  this  is  certainly  the  right  num- 
ber." 

"And  it  may  be  that  nobody  lives  here  too,"  said 
I  dryly,  "and  that  we  have  come  upon  a  fool's  errand!" 

"You  knew  we  were  chancing  that!"  snapped 

Peaches.  "But  I  won't  be  satisfied  to  go  away  now 

let's  try  the  lower  door !" 

Well,  I  could  not  see  what  sense  there  was  in  that, 
though  our  escort  agreed.  And  so  the  two  descended 
from  the  high  stoop  and  vanished  into  the  darkness  of 
the  areaway,  amid  the  crates  that  were  heaped  within 
it,  while  I  remained  at  the  main  entrance.  The  few 
drops  of  rain  which  had  been  falling  when  we  arrived 
were  rapidly  increasing  in  number  and  force,  and  the 
thunder  drew  nearer  and  nearer  with  angry  mutter- 
ings. 

Bitterly  regretting  that  I  had  ever  risked  my  best 
hat  upon  an  adventure  which  seemed  doomed  to  so  tame 


268  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

an  ending  I  withdrew  myself  from  the  open  stoop  and 
sought  what  scant  shelter  the  outer  ledge  of  the  storm 
door  afforded,  flattening  myself  as  much  as  possible 
and  hoping  devoutly  that  my  ostrich  tips  would  recurl 
nicely. 

From  below  came  the  sound  of  a  bell,  another  bell 
this  time,  but  ringing  in  just  as  desolate  a  way  as  that 
of  the  front  door.  Again  silence  except  for  that 
wretched  feline.  Then  came  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps.  Some  one  was  coming  down  the  street ! 

The  steps  were  not  very  loud  to  be  sure,  the  new- 
comer being  soft  shod,  and  after  a  moment  I  realized 
that  Peaches  and  Dicky,  being  intent  upon  their  im- 
mediate occupation,  and  furthermore,  cut  off  from 
this  approach  by  being  on  the  far  side  of  the  solid 
masonry  of  the  high  stoop,  did  not  hear  him.  It 
flashed  across  my  mind  that  policemen  did  not  usually 
wear  sneakers  or  rubber  soles  to  their  shoes,  and  that 
therefore  this  was  not  the  roundsman  of  the  beat. 
In  confirmation  of  this  supposition  was  the  fact  that 
whoever  was  approaching  was  in  a  hurry — not  run- 
ning, but  coming  on  with  a  quick  light  step,  very  un- 
like the  heavy  deliberate  tread  of  a  night  watchman 
wearing  away  the  hours  at  his  post. 

Therefore  I  very  cautiously  stuck  my  head  round 
the  corner,  only  to  withdraw  it  instantly  and  remain 
motionless,  soundless,  against  the  door.  It  was  a  man 
who  was  approaching,  his  arms  rilled  with  bundles 
such  as  would  indicate  a  visit  to  some  all-night  grocery 
or,  more  likely,  delicatessen  store;  and  his  enormous 
height  made  him  unmistakable.  It  was  Sandro. 

All  unknowing  what  awaited  him,  he  ran  lightly 
up  the  steps,  glancing  up  and  down  the  street 
as  he  did  so.  And  as  he  reached  the  top  step  I  fell 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  269 

upon  him  from  the  shadow,  throwing  both  my  arms 
round  his  neck  and  causing  him  to  spill  a  half  dozen 
oranges,  which  bounded  down  into  the  street  and  area- 
way — one  of  them,  I  later  learned,  striking  Richard 
upon  the  head  and  thus  giving  him  notice  that  he  was 
wanted. 

"Sandro!"  I  cried.  "Thank  goodness  you  came 
home — my  hat  would  have  been  ruined  in  another  five 
minutes !" 

"Good  Lord !  Miss  Talbot !"  he  stammered,  making 
a  futile  effort  to  free  himself  of  me. 

But  I  hung  on  like  a  leech.  I  feared  that  if  I  re- 
laxed my  embrace  for  an  instant  he  would  make  a  dash 
for  liberty. 

"Oh,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you !"  I  said.  "Fear  not, 
we  know  all,  but  are  still  y  jr  friends." 

By  that  time  Peaches  and  Dicky  were  with  us.  See- 
ing this  I  let  him  go,  and  for  a  moment  he  stood  there 
looking  dazedly  from  one  to  the  other,  a  side  of  bacon 
sticking  grotesquely  out  from  under  one  arm,  a  bottle 
of  milk  held  firmly  in  the  other  hand. 

"Alicia!"  he  murmured,  scarcely  able  to  believe  his 
eyes.  "I  don't  understand.  And  Dick " 

"Neither  do  we  quite  get  it,"  responded  Dick  cheer- 
fully. "That's  why  we  are  here.  Just  hand  over  the 
eats,  old  man,  and  let  us  into  this  palace  of  yours, 
where  we  can  chin  a  little  less  conspicuously!  Hurry 
now,  before  some  unwelcome  party  tries  to  join  us!" 

Spurred  into  a  sort  of  hypnotic  life  the  duke  obeyed, 
finding  a  key  and  entering  first.  Peaches  went  next, 
slipping  her  hand  through  his  arm  as  she  went;  and 
hastily  picking  up  two  of  the  oranges  and  a  loaf  of 
bread,  which  fortunately  was  nicely  wrapped  in  glazed 


270  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

paper,  I  followed  them,  Dicky  bringing  up  the  rear 
and  closing  the  door  behind  us. 

Then  the  duke  turned  on  a  light,  after  a  brief  in- 
terval which  can  only  be  explained  by — well,  it  was 
probably  Peaches'  fault.  At  any  rate  he  turned  on  a 
light,  which  disclosed  a  shabby,  threadbare  hallway, 
and  then  opening  the  door  at  his  right  indicated  that  we 
should  enter. 

Now  it  was  one  of  my  dear  father's  iron-bound 
rules  that  no  well-bred  person  ever  evinces  surprise 
at  his  surroundings;  but  it  is  my  firm  conviction  that 
even  he  would  have  excused  the  exclamation  which 
burst  from  my  lips  upon  entering  that  apartment;  in 
point  of  fact  it  is  quite  possible  to  conceive  of  his 
joining  with  me  in  expressing  astonishment.  For  far 
from  being  the  sordid  der  which  I  had  been  prepared 
to  see,  it  was  a  room  of  such  luxury  as  I  have  seldom 
beheld.  The  furniture  was  fit  to  grace  a  museum, 
the  rugs  were  priceless,  while  on  the  wall  hung  several 
fine  paintings,  among  which  I  was  horrified  to  recog- 
nize the  Florentine  Madonna  and  Rubens'  Venus  and 
Mars.  There  were  other  art  treasures  too — carvings, 
candelabra  and  goodness  only  knows  what  not.  At  the 
moment  my  interest  focused  so  sharply  upon  the  cen- 
tral figures  in  the  drama  that  I  was  unable  to  register 
more  than  a  chaotic  impression  of  immense  wealth. 
The  museums  of  Europe  might  well  have  envied  that 
collection. 

The  duke  turned  quietly  to  Peaches. 

"Alicia!"  he  said.  "Now  tell  me — I  don't  under- 
stand why  you  have  come.  It  cannot  be  to  betray  me." 

"Sandro !"  she  cried.  "It  is  I  who  don't  understand. 
You  can't  be  a  common  thief!  And  if  you  are,  I 
don't  care.  You — you  may  get  over  it.  And  I  came 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  271 

because  I  love  you.  Do  I  have  to  tell  you  that?  I'm 
never  going  away  from  you  again!" 

The  duke  turned  very  white  and  backed  away  from 
her. 

"Look  here !"  he  said.  "I  can't  let  yp.u  do  this,  you 
know.  I've  run  away  from  you  once — don't  make  it 
impossible,  Alicia!" 

"But  I  have  loved  you  right  along,"  she  persisted. 
"We  heard  that  you  were  dead — and  so  I  thought 
I  might  as  well  marry  Mark,  you  know — because  noth- 
ing seemed  to  matter.  Oh,  don't  send  me  away !  Look 
— I  have  carried  your  wallet  all  these  years." 

Well,  of  course,  Peaches  exaggerated  a  little  when 
she  said  that,  but  it  was  no  time  for  correcting 
her  statement.  And  anyhow  the  duke  didn't  seem  to 
care.  With  a  swift  gesture  he  took  it  from  her. 

"Do  you  know  what  this  is?"  he  asked,  looking  into 
her  eyes.  "No  ?  And  still  you  believe  in  me !" 

"I  knew  there  was  something  in  it !"  exclaimed  Rich- 
ard, the  chauffeur.  And  he  was  right.  There  was. 
To  think  that  I  could  have  overlooked  such  a  fact ! 

Hurriedly  the  duke  took  out  his  penknife,  ripped 
the  edges  apart,  and  from  the  interlining  took  out  a 
thin  packet  wrapped  in  waterproof  tissue.  And  I  had 
felt  that  pad  and  thought  it  was  mere  stuffing!  With 
skillful — too  skillful — fingers  he  unfolded  the  covering, 
and  opening  up  the  paper  it  contained  he  spread  it 
upon  the  table  for  us  all  to  see. 

"Look!"  he  said.  "I  want  you  to  understand  what 
this  is  before  we  go  any  further.  This  bit  of  paper 
is  a  carte  blanche  from — from  a  very  important  person 
in  Italy.  See,  his  signature." 

We  looked — and  though  I  was  the  only  one  of  the 
three  that  could  read  Italian  the  two  others  were 


272  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

scarcely  less  impressed  than  I  was.  For  the  duke  had 
spoken  truly. 

"Carte  blanche,"  said  Peaches.  "That  means  'free 
hand',  doesn't  it?  But  how  does  that  square  you, 
Sandy  dear?" 

"It  doesn't,  really,"  said  he.  "But  if  you'll  all  sit 
down  I'll  tell  you  just  where  it  conies  in.  It's  rather 
a  long  story,"  he  added.  "And  my  boat  sails  at  eight 
o'clock." 

As  if  in  a  dream  we  did  as  he  suggested.  The  duke 
himself  stood  before  the  open  hearth,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back,  his  head  bent  in  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  raised  it  as  if  shaking  off  some  evil 
dream  and  began  his  extraordinary  story. 

"In  the  eyes  of  the  world  I  am  a  thief,"  he  pro- 
nounced. "In  all  probability  the  greatest  thief  of  our 
day,  and  what  is  more,  the  most  discriminating  one. 
You  see  how  my  taste  seems  to  run — world-renowned 
paintings  of  almost  inestimable  value,  rare  carvings, 
tapestries  and  statues.  Clumsy  to  handle,  are  they  not  ? 
Frightfully  difficult  to  dispose  of.  But  that  is  not  the 
strangest  part  of  my  predications.  You  will  notice 
that  all  of  them  are  of  the  art  of  a  single  nation — 
Italy." 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "strange  as  these  two  facts 
may  appear,  there  is  a  stranger  one  still.  Nothing 
that  I  take  is  ever  missed.  I  make  one  exception  to 
that — the  Scarpia  panels.  I  bungled  that  badly.  And 
then  last  night — if  it  had  not  been  for  Markheim's 
brutality  to  you" — here  Sandro's  face  grew  livid  at  the 
recollection — "if  it  had  not  been  for  that  interrup- 
tion, when  I  remembered  that  I  had  left  your  little  knife 
on  the  frame  and  returned  to  get  it  because  I  could  not 
endure  to  leave  behind  the  only  souvenir  I  had  of  you 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  273 

— I  would  have  got  away  clear.  You  people  would 
have  gone  on  living  with  that  replica,  boasting  of  it, 
perhaps,  to  the  end  ef  your  lives,  and  then  handing 
it  down  to  posterity  as  a  treasure  of  the  highest  order. 
I  can  assure  you  that  there  is  more  than  one  great 
collector  in  whose  service  I  have  been,  or  in  whose 
house  I  have  visited  as  a  guest,  who  is  doing  that 
very  thing." 

"But,  Sandro!"  cried  Peaches.  "What  did  you 
do  it  for?  You  couldn't  sell  such  things?  Where  are 
they?  Or  are  these  some  of  them?" 

She  indicated  the  contents  of  the  room  with  a  sweep- 
ing gesture. 

"These  are  my  weapons,"  he  said,  smiling.  "Re- 
plicas, all  of  them,  to  be  used  as  the  occasion  rises; 
as  I  locate  some  treasure  and  plan  to  acquire  it." 

"But  do  you  sell  them?"  she  persisted. 

"No,"  said  he. 

"Then  you  keep  them?  You  take  them  for  your- 
self ?"  she  cried  incredulously. 

"I  haven't  got  one  of  them!"  he  declared,  "except 
the  Madonna  of  the  Lamp.  And  I'll  not  have  her 
long." 

"But  do  you  mean  to  say  you  use  a  fence?"  Dicky 
broke  in. 

"I  do  not,"  replied  Sandro.  "Every  one  of  these 
paintings  that  I  have  recovered  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
Italian  Government — where  they  all  both  morally  and 
legally  belong!" 

His  voice  had  taken  on  a  new  tone  and  we  looked 
at  each  other  in  astonishment. 

"Then  this  paper "  began  Peaches. 

"Was  for  an  extreme  emergency  only,"  replied  San- 
dro. "I  have  never  had  occasion  to  use  it  before.  But 


274  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

to-night  I  may  need  to,  because  I'm  going  to  give  up 
my  job.  If  the  police  come  I  shall  let  them  in.  I 
can't  go  on  any  longer  because  of — you !" 

She  went  to  him  then,  and  we  turned  our  heads  away. 
It  was  later,  when,  still  uninterrupted  by  the  police, 
we  were  enjoying  a  breakfast  of  the  groceries  which 
the  duke  had  brought  in,  that  we  learned  the  rest  of 
the  tale. 

It  seems  that  both  Sandro  and  his  brother,  Leonardo, 
had  a  passion  for  art,  a  natural  inheritance  from  their 
father.  And  indignant  at  the  spoliation  of  Italy  by 
wealthy  foreigners  they  had  determined  to  recover  for 
Italy  every  object  of  art  upon  which  they  could  lay 
their  hands  that  had  been  illegally  smuggled  out  of 
the  country,  by  unscrupulous  foreign  capitalists. 

"I  was  the  more  adept,"  said  Sandro,  "and  so  my 
brother  has  for  years  acted  merely  as  a  sort  of  curator 
for  the  originals  until  means  could  be  found  to  place 
them  on  public  view  again.  He  has  them  at  Mon- 
teventi,  where  he  has  lived  a  very  retired  life  by 
preference.  He  is  a  sort  of  hermit  at  best,  and  it 
was  at  his  desire  that  I  assumed  the  title. 

"At  first  the  whole  scheme  seemed  nothing  but  a 
lark.  I  was  wonderfully  successful  and  I  cannot,  I  do 
not  now  believe  that  I  have  done  anything  but  right 
in  recovering  these  treasures  from  those  thieves!  I 
was  deeply  involved  in  a  mesh  of  appearances  when  I 
met  you,  Alicia.  It  was  too  late  to  clear  my  heels 
without  taking  the  International  Secret  Service  into  my 
confidence.  That  I  felt  I  could  not  do ;  I  had  dedicated 
my  life  to  the  job,  you  see,  and  so  I  ran  away  from 
you.  Then  the  war  came.  When  I  met  Dick  and 
heard  of  you  I  thought  you  had  forgotten — as  you 
ought!  Peaches,  I  am  a  miserable  adventurer — I 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  275 

haven't  a  penny  in  the  world  beyond  a  tiny  income 
which  my  brother  shares  and  which  we  have  existed  on 
all  these  years.  You  see,  my  robberies  have  never 
netted  me  a  shilling." 

"I  should  worry!"  Peaches  remarked. 

"You  ought  to!"  he  admonished  her.  "Good  Lord, 
when  I  found  you  were  going  to  be  married " 

"And  so  I  am  going  to  be !"  declared  Peaches.  "San- 
dro,  you  are  a  Dago  nut,  but  I  get  you  perfectly.  And 
I'm  going  to  keep  you  this  time.  If  you  will  promise 
to  get  a  more  usual  job  I  don't  care  how  poor  we  are, 
only  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you  I  would  like  to  get 
married  right  after  we  wash  these  dishes.  Pa  may  be 
closing  in  on  us,  and  I'd  like  to  have  matters  cinched 
before  he  arrives  on  the  scene." 

"Great  Scott !"  said  Sandro.    "Do  you  mean  it  ?" 

"I  said  it!"  replied  Peaches.  "Please,  Sandy,  don't 
make  me  ask  you  twice!" 

"But  your  poor  father  will  be  furious !"  I  protested. 
"And  you'll  have  no  bridesmaids  or  anything  else!" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  just  how  the  law  will  act  about 
your  other  affairs  when  the  truth  comes  out,"  com- 
mented Dicky,  "but  I  will  say  that  Pa  Pegg  will  have 
a  hard  time  prying  the  wife  of  an  Italian  subject  away 
from  him." 

"Will  I  stop  being  an  American  when  I  marry  you, 
Sandy?"  cried  Peaches,  showing  the  first  extreme 
symptoms  of  excitement  which  she  had  evidenced  as 
yet. 

"Yes.  But  not  for  long!"  he  replied.  "I  want  to 
come  back  to  this,  my  mother's  country — and  stay. 
And  when  I  am  a  citizen  you'll  be  one  again,  you 
know!" 

And  so  it  was  that  it  turned  out  to  be  a  good  thing 


276  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

that  I  had  worn  my  best  hat,  after  all.  Because  I  had 
never  been  a  bridesmaid  before,  and  the  feathers  hadn't 
come  out  of  curl  after  all.  In  point  of  fact  the  curl 
stayed  in  remarkably.  I  even  noticed  it  after  the 
steamer  bearing  the  bride  and  groom  had  sailed  and 
I  went  to  the  newspapers  to  insert  the  official  notice 
of  the  wedding.  There  was  a  little  mirror  over  the 
window  and  I  noticed  particularly. 

And  when  this  social  duty  was  done  I  made  Dicky 
Talbot  drive  me  right  to  a  hotel  and  sent  for  Mr.  Pegg. 
I  was  fearfully  afraid,  and  so  was  Dicky,  bless  the 
dear  boy's  heart.  But  he  went,  as  was  his  duty;  and 
I  waited,  as  was  mine.  No  one  can  ever  say  a  Talbot 
was  a  coward! 


XVIII 

IT  was  almost  two  months  later  before  the  tradi- 
tional bravery  of  my  family  was  really  put  to  a  su- 
preme test,  however.  All  that  had  gone  before — the 
terrible  publicity  which  followed  upon  Peaches'  elope- 
ment, the  escape  with  her  husband  to  foreign  shores 
and  his  official  "pardon,"  the  international  complica- 
tions which  this  involved  and  my  own  public  identifica- 
tion with  the  whole  affair — was  as  nothing  to  face 
when  compared  with  the  emotion  which  assailed  me 
upon  that  late  June  day  when  I  stood  alone  upon  the 
threshold  of  my  father's  house  in  Boston,  and  rang  the 
newly  polished  door  bell. 

True,  I  had  lived  much  in  the  past  six  and  one  half 
years,  and  might  justly  consider  myself  ripe  in  the 
experience  gleaned  therefrom.  Without  doubt  my 
worldly  knowledge  was  far  beyond  that  of  my  elder 
sister,  and  yet  nothing  in  my  entire  career  caused  me 
to  experience  such  memories  or  cost  me  such  effort 
as  did  the  ringing  of  that  bell. 

Not  that  there  was  anything  in  the  least  alarming 
about  the  aspect  of  Chestnut  Street  itself.  Quite  to 
the  contrary,  its  neat  brick  houses  with  their  scoured 
limestone  steps  and  carefully  trimmed  window  boxes 
were  peculiarly  restful  to  the  eye,  to  the  spirit.  The 
sheltering  elm  trees  were  in  their  finest  plumage  of  deli- 
cate green,  the  destroying  beetle  being  still  at  bay. 
The  feather  brick  of  the  sidewalk  was  warmly  colorful 
and  quaint,  and  a  flock  of  grackles  foraged  noisily  in 
the  gutter.  It  was  indeed  a  street  of  peaceful  beauty 

277 


278  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

— unchanged  after  all  this  stormy  interlude  of  the  great 
war  and  the  first  turbulent  months  of  reconstruction. 
All  was  as  I  had  left  it.  Only  I  was  changed. 

And  yet  not  so  changed  but  that  I  felt  the  old  child- 
ish fear  of  outraged  authority  upon  me  as  I  found 
myself  about  to  face  my  sister  Euphemia.  The  es- 
sence of  her  chaste  personality  seemed  to  rush  out 
at  me  like  a  cooling  wind  to  chill  the  ardor  of  my 
greeting  even  before  I  made  my  presence  known — be- 
fore I  was  even  sure  that  she  was  at  home. 

For  I  had  sent  no  word  of  my  coming,  wishing  to 
take  her  unaware,  and  so  surprise  her  perchance  into 
some  expression  of  warmth.  Of  course  her  ignoring 
of  my  letters  and  gifts  was  not  exactly  what  might 
be  called  a  hopeful  sign.  And  still,  hope  I  did,  the 
while  I  feared.  But  after  all  she  could  do  no  more 
than  turn  me  out,  and  it  had  been  my  duty  to  come. 
At  any  rate  she  could  not  deny  this,  and  so  at  length 
gathering  my  forces  in  a  mighty  effort  and  determining 
to  try  to  be  strong  in  my  consciousness  of  right,  and 
not  allow  her  to  get  the  better  of  me  the  way  she 
always  used  to  in  the  old  days,  I  finally  rang  the  bell. 

My  heart  pounded  audibly  as  I  did  so,  though  I 
scarcely  know  just  what  I  expected  would  happen 
when  the  door  opened.  Goodness  knows  I  had  time 
enough  to  calm  down  before  it  did — and  during  the 
wait  I  had  ample  opportunity  for  observing  the  changes 
which  had  been  made  in  the  home  of  my  father. 

It  had  been  newly  painted,  for  one  thing,  and  the 
rotting  column  of  the  porch  which  had  so  long  dis- 
tressed Euphemia  had  been  replaced  by  a  sound  one. 
Moreover,  the  stable  was  in  repair,  and,  if  I  could 
credit  my  senses,  in  use.  The  patch  of  lawn  was  neat 
and  trim,  and  the  glimpse  which  I  got  of  the  garden 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 279 

betrayed  the  hand  of  a  hired  man — a  first-class  hired 
man.  In  the  parlor  windows  hung  new  lace  curtains 
of  a  most  elegant  design.  Altogether  the  effect  was 
at  once  prosperous  and  dignified,  and  glad  tears  came 
into  my  eyes  as  I  realized  that  this  was  the  fruit  of 
my  labors!  For  this,  the  substantial  restoration  of 
the  house  which  had  been  my  dear  father's  pride  and 
joy  but  undoubtedly  rather  jerry-built  in  the  beginning, 
had  been  restored  to  its  pristine  glory  by  the  labor  of 
my — well,  by  my  labor! 

What  a  beautiful  thought!  How  it  exalted  me! 
And  dear  Euphemia  had  a  comfortable  and  aristocratic 
though  virginal  old  age  to  look  forward  to  here  in  a 
house  which  was  henceforth  to  be  her  very  own,  se- 
cured in  it  through  my  bounty.  What  an  exquisite 
appreciation  of  the  virtue  of  generosity  was  mine  at 
that  moment !  How  glad  I  was  that  she  wouldn't  have 
a  single  thing  to  say  to  me  for  which  I  would  not  have 
a  mighty  tangible  comeback! 

And  then  just  as  I  had  reached  this  high  peek  of 
enthusiastic  pleasure  in  the  rewarding  power  of  'good 
deeds — especially  good  deeds  that  cost  only  a  small 
portion  of  a  handsome  income — just  at  this  point  in 
my  reflections  I  heard  a  slow  footstep  making  laggard 
response  to  my  ringing,  and  at  once  my  heart  sank  into 
my  walkrite  shoes — for  I  would  not  have  dared  appear, 
in  French  heels — and  my  hands  trembled  in  their  silk 
gloves.  Was  it  Euphemia  herself  coming  to  admit 
the  wanderer?  Had  she  grown  so  feeble  in  six  and 
one  half  years  that  her  step  was  slow  and  halting  ?  I 
feared  to  look  as  the  door  slowly  opened.  Yet  look 
I  must  and  did. 

It  was  an  enormous  colored  woman. 

"Yass,  Ise  coming,"  she  was  beginning,  when  sud- 


280  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

denly  she  recognized  me,  and  her  broad  face  lighted 
in  a  grin  which  extended  from  ear  to  ear. 

"Lordy,  if  it  ain't  Miss  Free!"  she  cried.  "Ain't 
changed  nothin'  a-tall!  My  lawsy — where  you-all 
come  from,  Miss  Free?" 

"Fm  just  from  the  train,"  I  replied,  stepping  gin- 
gerly into  the  hall.  "Surely  you  are  not  Galadia?" 

I  sho'   am!"   she  said.     "You  didn'   spek  I   wuz 
gwine  be  a  pickaninny  no  mo',  did  you,  Miss  Free?" 

Of  course  this  was  exactly  what  I  had  expected — 
a  pickaninny, — fourteen-year-old  Galadia,  short  dress, 
long  apron  and  all.  Indeed  not  to  find  her  so  was  a 
distinct  shock. 

"I'm  afraid  I  did,"  I  admitted  truthfully. 

"Well,  bless  yo'  heart,  Ise  got  fo'  pickaninnies 
of  ma  own!"  she  exclaimed  amazingly.  "Three  trip- 
lets and  one  single !" 

"Galadia!"  I  exclaimed.  "And  you  are  still  work- 
ing here.  Why  didn't  you  write  me  you  had  married !" 

''Well,  dat  no-count  nigger  what  Ah  married  wiv — 
he  spen'  so  much  time  in  de  jail  Ah  reckoned  Ah 
couldn't  afford  to  lose  all  dem  handsome  single  wages 
you  done  been  sendin'  me." 

"I  see!"  I  replied.  "And  now  tell  me — is  my  sister 
at  home?" 

"Ain't  home  yet!"  she  said.  "Reckon  you  didn't 
tell  her  you  was  comin'?  No!  Well,  jes'  yo'  set  in 
de  parlor  an  I  f otch  you  a  nice  cup  tea !" 

Despite  my  protest  the  good  soul  hustled  off  to  at- 
tend to  my  imaginary  wants,  and  I  stood  looking  about 
me  dazedly.  The  change  in  the  interior  of  the  house 
was  even  greater  than  the  external  alterations,  and 
not  nearly  so  pleasing. 

The  quaint  old  wallpapers  were  gone,  and  in  their 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  281 

place  were  cartridge  papers — new  and  drab.  This  was 
bad  enough,  but  when  I  caught  sight  of  mission  furni- 
ture in  gray  oak,  and  a  player-piano  encumbering  our 
erstwhile  rosewood  drawing-room,  my  blood  turned 
cold  with  horror.  It  was  all  new,  all  expensive,  fright- 
fully snappy,  if  I  may  borrow  the  term,  and  too,  too 
perfectly  dreadful!  If  this  had  been  done  to  my 
mother's  parlor  what  had  become  of  the  rest  of  the 
house?  I  trembled  to  think !  But  before  I  had  oppor- 
tunity to  explore  further  the  noise  of  a  high-powered 
car  stopping  at  the  curb  outside  the  door  distracted  my 
attention. 

Through  the  lace  of  the  new  curtains  I  could  see 
a  slim  woman  in  some  sort  of  uniform,  as  she  dis- 
mounted from  the  driver's  seat.  The  car  was  one  of 
those  low-hung,  long-chassised  affairs  with  tool  box 
and  tires  on  the  running  board,  solid  wheels,  no  top 
and  no  windshield — a  tremendously  sporty  affair.  The 
chauffeuress  wore  heavy  dust  goggles  and  thick  gloves, 
and  over  the  smart  uniform,  the  skirt  of  which  did 
not  quite  cover  her  knees,  a  linen  duster  was  worn 
rakishly. 

Whistling  a  little  tune  of  the  type  popularly  known 
as  jazz  she  shut  off  the  motor  and  came  up  the  front 
steps,  letting  herself  in  with  a  latchkey.  By  this  time 
I  was  fairly  overcome  with  curiosity  as  to  who  this 
young  house  guest  of  my  sister's  might  be,  and  to  my 
great  delight  she  came  directly  into  the  drawing-room. 
"When  she  caught  sight  of  me  she  stopped  dead  in 
her  tracks. 

"Good  Lord!  Freedom  Talbot!"  she  exclaimed. 
Then  she  removed  the  goggles  with  one  hand  and  held 
out  the  other  like  a  frank  boy. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  old  thing!"  she  said  heartily. 


282  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

It  was  Euphemia! 

Somehow  or  other  I  tottered  to  a  chair  and  sank  into 
it,  calling  feebly  for  "Water!  Water!" 

"Water !  Stuff  and  nonsense !"  said  Euphemia.  "A 
little  brandy  is  what  you  need!  Here  you  are!" 

She  held  something  to  my  lips  and  gratefully,  but 
expecting  at  any  moment  to  awaken  from  my  dream, 
I  drank. 

"I  carry  it  in  my  emergency  kit,"  Euphemia  was 
explaining.  "Need  it  sometimes  in  my  work  with  the 
boys!" 

"With  the  boys?"  I  asked  feebly. 

If  she  had  forthwith  produced,  like  Galadia,  a  set 
of  triplets  and  a  single,  I  should  not  have  been  more 
astonished.  In  point  of  fact  I  was  not  capable  of 
further  astonishment  because  she  had  already  taken 
all  the  astonishment  I  had. 

"Oh!  I  forgot.  You  wouldn't  know,  of  course!" 
she  said  briskly.  "Reconstruction  work.  I'm  on  the 
ambulance — take  'em  out  for  a  ride  from  the  hospital 
and  all  that.  Well,  how  are  you  now?  Better?" 

"I'm  as  much  better  as  I  ever  shall  be  after  seeing 
you  in  the  costume,  Euphemia !"  I  said  severely.  "I'm 
surprised  at  you,  I  really  am !" 

"You  have  nothing  on  me!"  she  retorted.  "I'm  as 
surprised  at  you  as  you  could  possibly  be  at  me.  Look 
at  the  opportunities  you  have  had — look  at  the  places 
you  have  been — the  money  you  have  earned — and  then 
look  at  the  clothes  you  have  on!" 

"What  is  the  matter  with  my  clothes?"  I  gasped, 
outraged  at  her.  But  laughingly  Euphemia  got  to  her 
feet  and  coming  over  to  me  lifted  my  reticule. 

"Same  old  bag!'  she  said.  "Full  of  junk,  I  sup- 
pose! Same  old  dress — actually  the  same  one,  I  do 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  283 

believe!  And  that  curled  fringe.  Really,  my  dear, 
at  your  age  they  are  ridiculous !" 

"At  my  age!"  I   fairly  squeaked  with  indignation. 

"Yes — you  are  far  too  young  for  them!"  she  went 
on  calmly.  "As  for  those  gloves  and  those  shoes! 
Really,  Free,  it's  too  much!  I  don't  understand  it, 
really!" 

This  was  more  than  human  nature  could  endure. 
Either  her  brain  had  gone  or  mine  had.  My  clothes, 
of  course,  were  in  many  ways  a  concession  to  the  feel- 
ings of  the  Euphemia  I  had  left  behind  me.  This  new 
creature  with  her  carefully  massaged  old  face,  her  up- 
right figure,  her  perfect  hearing,  was  a  stranger  to 
me;  but  a  rather  splendid,  competent  stranger,  I  was 
forced  to  admit. 

"Euphy!"  I  cried  in  despair.  "Will  you  not  confide 
in  me  what  has  come  over  you?  What  has  effected 
this  amazing  transformation?  You  owe  me  some  ex- 
planation! I — I  don't  know  what  to  think!" 

She  regarded  me  with  a  look  that  was  suddenly  more 
serious. 

"I  suppose  it  all  does  seem  a  bit  queer  to  you,"  she 
conceded,  throwing  herself  into  one  of  the  hideous 
new  chairs  with  a  boyish  abandon.  "I've  got  used  to 
myself,  you  see,  and  I  forget.  I've  been  so  frightfully 
busy  all  through  the  war  too.  I  suppose  the  war  and 
being  in  the  motor  corps  rather  waked  me  up  a  bit. 
The  war  and  Uncle  Joshua's  money." 

"Uncle  Joshua!"  I  exclaimed.  "I  didn't  know  we 
had  an  Uncle  Joshua!" 

"Well,  we  had,  and  he  left  me  all  his  fortune  uncon- 
ditionally, about  two  weeks  after  you  left  home,"  said 
Euphemia.  "I  never  wrote  you,  because — well,  your 
showing  all  that  grit,  going  off  your  own  bat  and  all, 


284  IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE 

made  me  frightfully  jealous.  Made  me  feel  so  useless. 
And  I  determined  I'd  make  something  out  of  myself 
before  I  got  too  old.  And,  old  dear,  with  the  mas- 
seuse I've  got  and  the  good  time  I'm  having,  I  expect 
to  live  to  be  a  hundred.  You  see  I  went  to  a  course 
of  lectures  the  first  month  you  were  away.  On  sub- 
conscious inhibitions  and  suppressed  desires,  they  were. 
I  bought  the  ticket  with  the  first  of  Uncle  Joshua's 
money.  I  found  out  at  these  lectures  that  all  I  had  to 
do  to  be  a  success  was  to  be  myself.  I  at  once  started 
in  to  be  myself — and — here  I  am!" 

"And  I  slaved  like  a — a  prisoner!"  I  sniffed,  "and 
sent  you  money  to  squander  in  this — this  outrageous 
life  you  are  leading!" 

"There  is  nothing  in  the  least  outrageous  about  my 
life!"  she  snapped  with  some  of  her  old-time  asperity. 
"It's  far  less  outrageous  than  my  old,  selfish,  self- 
centered  life  was.  Anybody  but  an  old-fashioned 
woman  like  yourself  would  see  that.  And  as  for  your 
money,  every  cent  of  it  has  been  spent  upon  the  main- 
tenance of  a  motor-ambulance  corps — in  France,  dur- 
ing the  war,  and  here  in  Boston  in  reconstruction 
since!" 

"It  must  be  admitted  that  I  find  the  news  very 
gratifying,"  I  said  after  a  short  silence.  "I  am  sorry 
I  was  so  short.  But  I  am  upset — fearfully  upset.  I 
suppose — indeed  I  believe  that  you  are  living  as  you 
think  right.  From  my  standpoint  I  think  it  most  un- 
womanly. However,  I  want  to  be  friends.  I  wish 
to  make  this  visit  a  success.  I  have  some  other  shoes, 
Euphemia,  really  I  have — quite  high-heeled  ones.  And 
I  only  keep  to  my  curls  because  Mr.  Pegg,  my  hus- 
band, admires  them!" 

That  fixed  her!    I  noted  with  satisfaction  the  look 


IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE  285 

of   blank   amazement    which    spread    over   her    face. 

"Yes,  my  dear!"  I  said.  "Your  masculine  ways 
may  be  all  very  well  for  you.  But  they  will  never 
catch  you  a  husband.  For  my  part,  nothing  could  ap- 
pear sweeter  than  to  go  gradually  down  life's  sunset 
path  hand-in-hand  with  a  beloved  partner  as  I  am 
doing — and  the  fact  that  the  five-carat  stone  on  the 
left  one  is  a  real  diamond  does  not  make  me  any  the 
less  happy !"  Here  I  withdrew  my  despised  silk  gloves 
and  displayed  the  beautiful  solitarie  which  Mr.  Mark- 
heim  had  given  to  Peaches  and  which  my  dear  husband 
had  taken  off  the  banker's  hands  at  cost. 

"And  we  are  going  to  live  in  golden  California,"  I 
went  on.  "Of  course  the  East  is  all  very  well  once  in 
a  while  for  a  change,  but  for  living  give  me  the  West. 
You  ought  to  see  California,  Euphemia.  No  rain, 
no  snow,  no  bad  roads,  no  labor  troubles  and  no  high 
cost  of  living!  And  the  delight  of  all  the  flowers  you 
want — such  blossoms — blossoms  as  you  have  never 
even  dreamed  of,  all  with  hardly  any  cultivation !  Such 
beaches,  Euphemia!  Such  lovely  houses!  We  never 
have  to  heat  them  in  the  winter,  except  occasionally, 
you  know." 

"Perhaps  I'll  motor  out  some  day!"  murmured 
Euphemia,  plainly  awed. 

"Oh,  do !"  I  cried.  "Gasoline  is  only  nineteen  cents 
in  California.  We  grow  our  own,  you  know!" 

"Must  be  ^retty  nice !"  said  my  sister,  now  almost 
thoroughly  cowed.  I've  noticed  that  is  usually  the  ef- 
fect it  has  upon  the  listener  when  they  get  me  started 
about  the  Coast. 

"Oh,  you'd  love  it!"  I  went  on  enthusiastically. 
"You  know  you  Easterners  never  see  the  real  Cali- 
fornia fruit.  It's  so  much  larger  and  finer  than  that 


286 


which  you  get.  Of  course  there  is  only  about  enough 
of  it  for  home  consumption,  so  we  eat  it  ourselves. 
We  couldn't  supply  the  demand  it  would  create.  The 
California  farmer,  my  dear,  is  the  only  farmer  in  the 
world  who  consumes  his  own  best  products.  And  the 
life  is  so  varied — boating,  swimming,  fishing,  hunt- 
ing, tennis,  tobogganing  at  Truckee  in  the  winter! 
Everything !" 

"And  so  you  are  going  to  live  on  a  ranch  and  be- 
come a  regular — er — vegetable!"  exclaimed  Euphemia, 
apparently  unable  to  think  of  anything  more  con- 
temptuous. 

"Well,  Mr.  Pegg  says  I  am  pretty  wild  stock,"  I  ad- 
mitted, blushing,  "but  he  hopes  that  by  cultivating  me 
he  can  tame  me.  And  I'm  sure  I  hope  he  will!" 


THE   END 


A    000110713    5 


